Skip to main content

On the Use of Children


The use of children to further an agenda that you might have is a cheerless use of Love…

Would you classify me as daft as a fox?

(You mean sly. It’s sly as a fox, scribe.)

No. I meant daft, I’m not a fox. But now that you mention it?

(Silence…)

When I write these words I am not thinking, I am reacting to the dance of the loving spirit.

I interact with people and their spirit’s and mine automatically dance to a loving belief, which is tethered to my newborn spirit which is within the spirit of Love.

The spirit's are laughing and crying and praying for Love! They are we, who we all, as one, are meant to be! Not as any number of our individual selves- but, within that scenario lies the truth, you see, the one exactness of humanity’s need- a loving balance, physical and spiritual balance. Home meets Love. Truth meets Spirit and Life finds its balance.

(And they all lived happily ever after, I’m sure…)

Life, dear loving spirit, is a stability to be found, not painted over…

(Hush, my child. You've written enough for now.)

But I haven’t. I've just begun to heed the truth come within this belief of the (H)eartH’s whispers to me. I promised that I would dance and heal the spirit’s in the ways that I could, not to be a marionette by any stroke of the imagination, but to do Creation a favor and craft, along with the many of the one spirit, a belief that is of Love for anything and all. A fullness not imagined before. A breadth of treats to keep us in awe and in laughter, life and love… and we, to remember.

(But what happens to belief if everything is known?)

There's no need if it is known, if it is known it is no longer belief, it is your reality being placed upon all others and that, I’m sorry to say, makes it rather untenable…

What are we waiting for, let’s get to crafting!

I beleve beyond the shadow of any doubt that I was not summoned from anything sent from above, I believe my summons came from the hellish spirit that we’d made of our beliefs as we danced and tore away at the eartH’s soil and tainted the waters with our foul genius!

(Take it easy, scribe, you’re about to dance yourself out in the open.)

I’ve got you kind spirit, to guide e safely through.

(So you believe…)

Beyond one nth of an iota of a smidgen of a doubt.

(So, there is daylight!)

None to discern, which is why it all makes sense, why this belief cannot end, it can’t, because I can’t imagine myself creating it better than the one truth which is already established. I can’t imagine me creating anything better than that which was set into motion by the one exactness long ago, for lifetimes upon lifetimes of this inexplicable existence, which has always been eternal. How could it be any other way? I say let’s make the most of it while we’re still privileged enough to be here…

What man or woman could actually summon the One Truth when they haven’t even recognized Home? Blindness of the spirit by willfully gouging out both of eyes from guilt is a dangerous act to commit …

The concept of “hell” is/was designed to put fear in the heart, where, I believe, there was none. I believe that the mere thought of hell, of agony, of eternal penance for “sins”, sins whose source was that of fear, something that certainly isn’t yours or yours or your thought alone that brought it to the forefront, maybe the whole, maybe, but the point is, it might be to our collective benefit to erase this, our hell, from our spirited beliefs…

The idea of hell is not a friend and should not and shall not be found in this belief, and hopefully not in any belief. The idea itself should be erased from the human frame, leaving us with little choice but to Love…


© 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
........•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...

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