All it takes is a rustle of noise to filter through my sadness at what’s been done. Come songbird! Fly me away from this treachery that I might echo thy song! Come, Love! Why do you tarry at your retribution? Are you not sufficiently tortured that you would gladly give it all up for some peace?
The breeze whispered my name upon its breath and the traffic found entry thorough the air. I challenged its throne, this noise of man’s undoing, greed painted to resemble a God that only exists in the collective mind of men with profit in their sites and death in its reflection. Don’t let them fool you, friend. They mean you harm, they will tear at Love’s flesh until they themselves feel her pulse rise beneath their feet.
(Won’t we all…)
© 2012 the spirit of Love and Peace dancing through Mark Richard Prime
Comments
Post a Comment