THE MISSION STATEMENT

Tango Charley, we have friendly’s on the ground!

You are cleared to level their reality! Engage at will!

Copy that, Loving Spirit, engaging now…

What was that?

(Frequency intervention, I’d imagine.)

What the hell is frequency intervention?

(There is no hell that I know of. There is only Heaven before my eyes.)

Keep us looking up for salvation and we’ll forget that our salvation rests beneath our feet.

It’s heaven if we want it! Who doesn’t desire Love? Who doesn’t desire peace and goodness for all of humankind? Who doesn’t desire a healthy eartH? Who truly wants to suffer in such folly when it’s always been up to us as angels to earn our Heavenly Home? We are meant to grow with Creation’s great unknowns and with Love’s most wondrous Heart(H)…

(The hell you say!)

Why must there be “hell”? Why couldn’t our belief marry our truth and have Love triumph in the end? Haven’t all of our stories, and paintings and words and music and dance, sought out that which was most loving within our known while growing alongside our unknown reality?

What if it’s known that we are the carriers of Love’s reflection?

(Then your mirrors are foggy in your belief and your reality!)

Yet the truth that I find my self seeking is Home…

We are within eternity as we speak, my friends. How could it be any other way? And if the (H)eartH is eternal, a product of Creation, wouldn’t it stand to reason that we are eternal as well?

Logically, why would Creation, which I believe is the fullness of the one truth, Love, why would Creation fit any version of hell within its Heart(H)? There is not one justifiable reason that agony exists on the eartH.

Where else is agony found in our reality? Do we witness suffering on Jupiter, Mars, the moon? No. So, the eartH, my friends, is the only place agony is found in our present state of seeing. I pray that fear (agony/hell) is nowhere in our imaginings. If it is up to me to create, why would I imagine crafting such an ill-conceived notion as hell within it? Why, when I have the power to make it into a Heavenly Home?

That way, when all is said and done, we’ll still have a desire to believe in something, the truth…

(Believe what you want, but craft Heaven of your reality long before you summon your hell.)

(ping)

(Silence…)

(Love…)

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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