Why do you test me, as if I could ever forget the lessons learned in this dream, this life, this inexplicable existence…? (But you have forgotten these lessons time and time again, Mark Richard Prime, lifetimes of forgetting who you are and where you stood. Begin anew your quest, and each shall evermore reap the love that was sewn.) The love shown to Home needs something to keep it from tipping off the edge and down into a useless pile of failed me’s. If I do not begin to cure the earth of human dis-ease, the love of Heaven will bring her booming remedy, eradication of the self at the hand of the self, suicide by connection... (Do not stiffen your limbs with unimaginables or chatter or have your teeth like a mindful zombie, doomed to repeat it over and over and over and each time fail to recognize where you are and forget that it is essential to Heaven, essential to where you are, is where you were, or you might let slip her disappointment in your failure to remember her, the
(The Weaver's Song)