Bring me around to peace. Deliver my message toward Love. Cart in my kind’s flaccid limbs. Carry my death-weighted tongue nearest to the depleted peace. Navigate the wobbling orb that she might hold me anon, and, with her love, carry me to weeping, bring me to remember the worship of her. My kind has forgone creation’s gravity and now dangles at the mercy of Love.
© 2012 the spirit of Love dancing through Mark and Michelle Prime