What We Become Because of Our Beliefs

Perhaps it’s all one big practical joke? I mean who's to know in this, our cloud of innuendo?

The truth of the matter may well be hidden from view, but the pathway is clear and it is nothing but the fullness of Love.

It is indeed the thought that counts… as prayer?

(Thought counts as prayer?)

Yes. Thought is prayer. It is not what we believe, it is what we become because of our beliefs that we must concern ourselves with, belief won’t always be here, but the truth, well, that’s a different matter altogether…

The only reason a gag order would be needed is if what needed to be muted was the opposite of Love...

I am who I was born to be. Along with you, and you and you and you and you and you and you and you and you and you and you and you and you-

(O! Tell me what it is I am to do, the who and where have long been solved...)

Why do you need more proof than these words?

(Humankind’s words are flawed!)

Not according to them.

(Silence…)

You’ve need to come to me, I’ve need to pray that you do…

The last beep on the monitor as a child passes on, the silence that swoops down like a vulture, is not silence, it is anguish personified.

How would we know that the eartH needs silence if our noise reigns? Her song will go unnoticed.

(It is the eartH's request of you to reverse your course, then pray for something when deserved.)

I’ve been trying to tell people that a loving spirit resides in me. The balance, as one might imagine, is most delicate. We’re tumbling and we don’t even know it.

Love has us captivated by gravitational forgiveness!

(What?)

Gravitational forgiveness.

(No. I know what you said, it just sounds so… stupid.)

Compared to what? You are in some ways obligated to prove your theory if it challenges mine, but only with the fullness of your Love, otherwise, where would you imagine drawing a line?

How much fear are you willing to allow inside of your belief? Half? Three quarters? Enough to survive? None?

I chose to be fearless. I had to- my belief is that of full Love. I had no other choice, really. The fullness of Love is unbendable.

(It can sure be smothered, though!)

Then it can, by that reasoning, be uncovered and allowed to rise above our want, our greed, our wars, our murder, our rape and our haunts! Release your fullness of love, life and laughter! Set it in motion that it might create from here on after!

(The wind. The wind. The loving wind blows out the infernos found in your fearful beliefs.)

ROOT OF

"For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil. Some people, eager for money, have wandered from the faith and pierced themselves with many griefs." __1 Timothy 6:10 It is MONEY, not the LOVE of it that is the issue, the true problem. Love, in and of itself, is never a problem, WANT and NEED, or better yet- the WANT and the conundrum of its very REQUIREMENT for our survival IS the problem, it's creation and our blind use of it is logically the ROOT. In other words, let's leave LOVE out of it altogether and deal with the facts instead. If money were not made by us as a requirement for our survival, we'd find ourselves in a much better position to argue of its need and our want of it. MRP Peace and Love © 2015 Mark Richard Prime

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........•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...

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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

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CONFESSION ZERO

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