Skip to main content

Take Our Hands and Lead Us


The wind and the fan circle their tirade around me, or is it my tirade circling round them? I am a human being and that’s all I can expect of you to think of me. Flawed, loving, but what of my duty? Am I not beholden to the eartH of Creation despite what I believe? Am I not the one that suffers without knowing why or where I am? It’s the who and the what that has me singing her song, me, a steward of love for the (H)eartH of Creation, which, at this moment, I still cannot know… and I’m okay with that.

Trust in Love and Love will guide the “you” to the “me”, and the “me” will take the hand to lead the “you” and the “me” into the arms of eternal Love…

If I am loving to all and to the eartH (there I go repeating myself), if I am loving I’ll gather goodness as if it were a blanket to drape ‘round Love…

In my belief, if I am to be loving, I must weave the blanket with the fullness of my affections; my evolving Life, Love and Laughter…


© 2012 the spirit of Love dancing through Mark Richard Prime

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

sdrawkcaB nruT (Turn Backwards)

I have been witness to the four pillars and see no reason to carry death there. Doesn’t the world know that life moves for more than just the sons of Abraham? O! I see the stunned throats floating by in the dusk to their stiff-limbed sleep as metal rains down over the Jordan’s western prophet, children dying there. I am here, waiting, breathing in the dusk under the shadow of the patriarch, asking, can we again build the shrine inside the soul and leave our flesh to time? © 2008 mrp/thepoetryman

Waiting for It

Why do they stay there, between war and peace? Sky’s tapestry doles out guns, bombs and rocks while flesh and bone swim away from the ache yet live on as the food for the murder of peace. Why do we hide from the truth as if it were an ogre while death makes a home inside their living and war dispatches a raven to their door, smirking with the teeth of empire? Why do we wait, stooped for another wink? The sky’s drapery has tossed down ample clues, peace is breathing in harmony with war. (Road-maps are useless to blind leaders.) Why do they hold there, hunched in the gloom? Hatred’s bird cackling with bereavement needs end. Are we not rightly dishonored when we fill its trough with blood? © 2007 mrp/thepoetryman
........•SHRIEKING MACHINE•........                  •HEAD-LINES•                           •RIP•     ---(“Russian missiles blast Ukrainian military academy and hospital, killing more than 50, officials say”)---    There are no more lessons to learn here, no more beds to hold the human wounded, just missile’s shrieking their grotesque ode, The Death of Humankind! RIP, children of God…    ---(“Hundreds attend Mercer Island vigil, march for murdered Israeli hostages”)---    Dear mourners, this is the brutal vacuum of a genocidal, terror-filled, indiscriminate war-machine made of fear and we are all hostages to its deafening roar! RIP, children of God…    ---(“10-year-old allegedly confesses to fatally shooting 82-year-old man and his daughter”)---    I must confess, this is part of war’s shrieking, children lost with a we...