Skip to main content

The Story-line


The story-line weaves its way toward Love like none I've yet to imagine and, believe you me, when I tell you that my imagination is soaring with Love, there’s no telling where she’ll place us down, but, while we’re still breathing, we might as well join in!

Boob boom and a rat a tat tat, boom boom bippety bop boom, dance with the spirit that’s in the room, dance with the spirit that’s in everyone and everything! Groove to its affections wafting about like a sultry lullaby that’s meant for those of us who've been asleep for far too long.

I remember only that which is of Love…

(So, if you've been afraid most of your life, but you acted as if you weren't bothered in the least, then why the abhorrent behavior toward fellow spirit vessels of flesh and bone if and when they ever tried to understand you?)

I don’t know. I’d imagine it has to do with my instinct and my love being so connected with who and where I am that it often shocks me…?

I’m waiting patiently. Time is irrelevant in my belief, yet there is a frame and an order to things of which we seem to have forgotten. I say let’s get to remembering while dancing with the spirit of Love, otherwise, we’re just dancing…

© 2012 the spirit of Love dancing through Mark Richard Prime

Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

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
32 comments
read the poem

SKYFALL

Skyfall... We continue to play along with an unnatural game that has serious consequences, soon we'll find ourselves enslaved without recourse to the system. (Is that true of local charades?) Yes. (Why can't we free ourselves from the system?) The madness of money. (It's not money, it's people, right?) It's both, money and us in tandem, thus assuring money's might and our adherance to its loudness. (Madness...) Indeed. © 2017 Mark Richard Prime
1 comment
read the poem

THE ROCK HOLDS

The rock holds the soil in and from the soil springs the tree, the green of LIFE rolling from the blue, rising to the occasion of itself. . “Be!”, the (H)eartH declares, “Be what you are!” . (We thought we were!) . (We think we are!) . “You are, but not freely, therefore, only a thought, and a thought without much thinking, as if you were scared into it.”, the (H)eartH added. . [a quietude begins, the truth being heard and heeded, grooving to the flow] ~ © 2017 Mark Richard Prime
Post a Comment
read the poem