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Showing posts from August 19, 2012

A Good Balance is Required

I’ve been preparing for this for longer than even I imagined. I thought the head injury was physical? But it was as spiritual as it was injurious. It began as a child, came to an abrupt reversal as a young man, and now has seemingly arrived full circle to my deeds, one to go. I’ve need to speak. I’ve desire to speak. I’ve much to speak. I’ve need to be silent.

Which is it, rimnod? Speak or silent?

Both.

That’s impossible!

Not if you’re speaking to Love and God, a good balance is required in order to be able to withstand the impact. Speak when prayer and laughter arise, be silent the rest of the time. End the brunt of noise and listen to her song. Sing the ode in her honor, bow to her love, life and laughter…

(Silence…)

Love.

(Silence…)

Life.

(Silence…)

Laughter.

The wind spills its breath as if it has been waiting to speak for ages now, that we might hear the truth beneath our squall…

(Silence…)

Silence is required…

The bug chimes in with his disgruntled peep and I am drawn down into…

It's not Credit, it's Penance

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Where and when?

Don't know yet (the eartH), but when, well that is the future and I can't read it...

It matters not what we call the Creator, it matters what we do.

The eartH is our Home and of Creation and look what we have done to her?

Perhaps I gave myself too much credit and wrote more of my own pain and suffering than I ever imagined in another?

It's not credit, it's penance.



© 2012 the spirit of Love dancing through Mark and Michelle Prime

Our Escape From the Mountains and Caves

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Our escape from the mountains and caves shall wield the shadows of our journey with a dim and mournful light.

~

We were warned by the slogging retreat of the bear; the escape from the mountains and caves, leaving shadows of our making in a proud and mournful beam.

Amid our insolence, murderers pinched the flame. We’ve made our way to the gallows, heads bent, war has given birth to our shame. Onward into another secret, a new shadow, up, up, up. Beckoning our weary and exposed legs the dismal general commands that we pursue the darkness even as our eyes have gone missing.

As we observe the hours travel upon their floating dust and wait upon the sun to signal a wearisome slumber our compasses read ‘turn back’, our hearts taste of home, war calls out to our tumbled cause and whispers ‘victory’.

We hear eternal profit traded for human flesh. Brooding hounds await our arrival upon the crag, their fangs honed in vengeance, backs unwilling to bend.

Our escape from the mountains and caves sh…

Death, not being the end

Higher! O! Higher still! Up, up and away! Dampen my Love, but do not wash it out or measure its depth, for I am afraid these, my words, might miss their mark. Come muse! Flow tenderly over my worship, not as a foul curse, but a curving stream with my heart and death between.

The price was steep for all. Death, not being the end, has been held nearest my decay, nearest my trust in imagination.

The hunt’s been on for Love. Fears most-wanted poster seeking out a most-wanted certainty that, in my aim, will dearly pay.

© 2012 the spirit of Love dancing through Mark and Michelle Prime

Upon Fertile Ground

Bring me around to peace. Deliver my message toward Love. Cart in my kind’s flaccid limbs. Carry my death-weighted tongue nearest to the depleted peace. Navigate the wobbling orb that she might hold me anon, and, with her love, carry me to weeping, bring me to remember the worship of her. My kind has forgone creation’s gravity and now dangles at the mercy of Love.

Will I make it back from here? Will my mind walk upon fertile land or will I execute the world’s terror with my tall sickles cutting through Love, the unbendable screens flickering an SOS…

© 2012 the spirit of Love dancing through Mark and Michelle Prime

-Another dance, this one from on line, Friday, 8.24.12 LESS A PRAYER AND MORE A BREATH-

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(Only Wonder Understands - Like Breath and Water)
(Within the bible there can be found so many wonderful beliefs about Love, as in the Bible and as in the Koran, both Christianity and Judaism are based on the Torah and the Torah is written in third person, and the Koran is written from allegedly the point of God, who refers to Himself as “We.”)

How does anything become holy, my friend? By the will of humankind...

Love, peace and goodness to you, yours and the eartH...

(Silence…)

Here comes another…

(Silence…)

Less a prayer and more a breath- green and blue and wet with joy…

Breathe dear mother of Love’s child. Breathe that thee and we might see our unconditional connection in the breath of our Love…

There is nothing to fear, but the manifestations of our own phantoms within our own fears. Peace, not war is near…

Less a prayer and more a breath- green and blue and wet with joy…

(Silence…)

These are nothing more than beliefs and if beliefs can come at the drop of a hat, the truth, imagine…

Morning chat with a couple of neighboring spirit continued...

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(Human Spirit)
They spoke of return in truth. They both (their spirits) told me things of themselves and the earth, not of the flesh, and that is always a welcome event.

I’ve been dancing with spirit so long now that I find it in my every waking moment. In prayer or not, I’m dancing. Prayer is my promise. The original promise I failed to keep, pray! Pray! Pray for the rain! I will be surprised by what this human’s loving spirit is capable of creating... Won’t I?

(Silence...)

We either return to the soil and come back as a rose or our spirit’s soar with the unknown unknowable... Put your faith in everything being okay even if you do come back as a flower…

A rose or eternal bliss… and joy and comfort and laughter and love and breath and breathing and life ever after.

Who are we to say that this isn’t our purpose, to evolve into cultivated spirit so that we benefit from its use, that more of our Love surfaces, because we haven’t one smidgen of a clue as to what awaits us in the hereaft…

A Visit with a couple of fellow spirit today, Friday August, 23 a.m.

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(Sunrise photo from the house on a cell phone)

And who am I to imagine otherwise when she rears her lovely head?

(Her?)

The passion that strikes your better self, your loving self, the self, who you are, is important to my growth. In fact it is healthy and indeed brings great delight to their God of belief, but what of their known beholden? Does she not call out to the spirit if nothing else? Does she not deliver our needs as we still attempt to write her off like a broken horse? If you’re going to bark about your freedoms, then grant me your loving spirit that we may begin our growth…

(The fragility of your mind has raised its flags; warnings from the squall of humankind’s most dismal fall, descent into the unknown, the unknowable instead of what is known.)

Yes.

(If belief can only get you so far in the journey, Mark Richard Prime, what could possibly be waiting for you on the pathway back toward Love?)

Exactness…

(Silence…)

(To be continued...)

© 2012 the spirit of Love dancing through Ma…

Mercenary Freedom

The children were dressed for the parade, yet they knew not what awaited their joy, what unknown would greet them on their path, things that had the power to dull their hearts.
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This rule that breathes gives no answer; in the firmness of the warrior our exposed intolerance stirs our blind procession, our dwindling freedom.
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The standing mercenary with the noise in his throat like the gurgle of death bubbling up with the blood of tyrants.
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The church bells chime, the rainfall falls, the mountains mount, but the smell of addiction does not fade; human empires, without exception, do.
-


© 2010 by mark prime



Grown Slack of their use

Where our skins have grown slack of their grave use, where love’s fallen short of it’s ascending worship, where glee’s shell game has duped both of our hands- words cannot bring mankind a superman…

Our fear is that choice is but illusion, that daydream’s drain away truth leaving hope to comfort man’s failing.

© 2012 the spirit of Love dancing through Mark and Michelle Prime

Limbs Unfolded

The barrel’s are hellish red, tenderized flesh,
hanging low like ancient oaks playing Twister,
with limbs unfolded in the leftover light beneath the sleeping feet of clay.

© 2012 the spirit of Love dancing through Mark and Michelle Prime

Long Before it's Prepared

Upon this day all of beauty hasn’t been used, and is ready. The sky remains, and the lord’s of abuse gather their swords to plunge inside green reason, the heart of charity; sun, rain, quake.

Stunned and slack-jawed, death dies long before it’s prepared to leave. It catches up to all of us, lifeless flowers lodged in our gape, etching the soil with a graveness uncalled for.

The eternal skied beams have cause for grief. My kind drafts his fate in delusion strapped to an empty pate.

© 2012 the spirit of Love dancing through Mark and Michelle Prime

Grimness and the Sermon

Permit the predator retain his grimness and the sermon’s be of truth, peace and Love, edges honed of shrapnel, thinned of pride. I must walk barefaced in front of cruelty, tremble not at its weapons. Be alive! Bravery raps at the gate.

© 2012 the spirit of Love dancing through Mark and Michelle Prime

Creation's Gravity

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Bring me around to peace. Deliver my message toward Love. Cart in my kind’s flaccid limbs. Carry my death-weighted tongue nearest to the depleted peace. Navigate the wobbling orb that she might hold me anon, and, with her love, carry me to weeping, bring me to remember the worship of her. My kind has forgone creation’s gravity and now dangles at the mercy of Love.

© 2012 the spirit of Love dancing through Mark and Michelle Prime

Green Rhythm

Thump, thump, thump stays my green rhythm as the wits usher in my red and howling belief.

Haven’t I the growling stomach as fear’s signal? When did my empathy cease the thump of Love?

My laughter too must have been ushered away as a terrorist in wait, slumped over aisles of fear.

© 2012 the spirit of Love dancing through Mark and Michelle Prime

Make no Motto...

Bring down the gavel upon me if I blast Love with the tools of battle! The hellhounds feast upon love, gorge upon the tender flesh of peace.

Indict me, then raise a new flag, a fresh banner, ‘Love Before Bombs’. Make no motto of love that worships war…

© 2012 the spirit of Love dancing through Mark and Michelle Prime

Be Vigilant

The endurance of the tick tock grumbles near me, marking off a cautionary demise. Three, two… One minute out. The racket of the car horn, the driver crashing fists through time.

Kings wrapped in golden hearts called out to sleepy sentinels nodding their walk along the turret, “Be vigilant! Protect your king!”

Silence…

© 2012 the spirit of Love dancing through Mark and Michelle Prime

With a Warning

There are limits to a thickening plot even where aliens rise.

Their skin had my attention as it glided by my befuddled gaze, passed by in solemnity, large eyes, without panic. They landed with a warning, a kind message for a self-destructing world.

© 2012 the spirit of Love dancing through Mark and Michelle Prime

Moment of Truth

A moment of truth would be nice to see. Full lips kissing all of the leftover love, hips grown down into the soil of our feet, truth bubbling up over wobbled knees, peace rising along with the new moon.

WARNING: Mankind may cause dread.

Cancer, like war, rears its god-fouled head. Cancer, like murder, whirls its dry blade in us. Cancer, like abuse, puts its hands to our throats. Cancer, like genocide, strangles us of our half death.

-Cigarette Smoke Contains Carbon Monoxide.

-War Smoke Contains Human Wretchedness.

If one must choose one over the other, choose tobacco, there’s less suffering in it.

~

O! Let the sand know it’s not alone! A great wall of red, yellow and green; loving armies striding across the Sahara, groves of loving limbs reaching up to the sun.


© 2012 the spirit of Love dancing through Mark and Michelle Prime

More is Needed...

Thirty thousand. More is needed. Much more. Bring water and food. Haul peace in by the jackboot. March war out of the sand by the scruff of its matted shell, drag it kicking and screaming of our deluded ownership.

Thirty thousand. More is needed. Much more. Arms held out with love turning in its fingers, bombs diffused with great care. Boom Boom Boom, inhales the lie. Hush Hush Hush, exhales truth…

© 2012 the spirit of Love dancing through Mark and Michelle Prime

Open to Truth

Let my eyes be open to truth.

The bomb blasts away the spirit, so the spirit blasts away the bomb. All of this self-preservation won’t hold air, it is the embers strafing man’s footholds, from the fragile to the courageous.

Let my eyes be open to truth.

© 2012 the spirit of Love dancing through Mark and Michelle Prime

Choose...

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O! Children, come! Play games that needn’t split flesh with indifference, needn't smash bone to smithereens like it’s slate rock. The thin layers of forged love cascading along like fortune are a picture we alone paint, then destroy, as if rubbish. Violence has the somber bearing of the grim reaper, peace has the passageway of love nearest its center.

Choose…

© 2012 the spirit of Love dancing through Mark and Michelle Prime

Evolve Now

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Man is young in his journey. We evolve too slowly, metastasize too gladly, our thoughts rear their barren heads like moles.

Evolve! Evolve now, that we might grow our waning love.

Evolve! Evolve now, that we might bow with humble head and with love emblazoned upon our burnt skin.

© 2012 the spirit of Love dancing through Mark and Michelle Prime

The Plea for Peace...

Dense and rigid, reminds me of Mankind and his thinking. Soon we’ll be able to squeeze war inside, between the rape and greed, in front of love and joy, behind hate and cruelty.

What an invention, war…

© 2012 the spirit of Love dancing through Mark and Michelle Prime

BETTER YET

The heat of the great star fills our lungs with life, keeps us frothing with stories written by mortals, those who put a deed of sale upon the head of creation, slathered wanted posters with a list of foul conduct highlighted in red ink and a mugshot of the star melting the ice into rivers of steam and floating dis-ease.

On pins and needles, sweat, gnash and weep…

Better yet, rejoice at your duty as savior for the Mother eartH and all of Creation's children of Life and Love and Laughter...


© 2012 the spirit of Love dancing through Mark and Michelle Prime

How Long am I going to Wait

How long am I going to wait before I open my eyes to more than myself?

Life’s track circles the globe and mounts its painting upon the primitive easel and upon the museum of skies, edges made of living dust, floors of rock, ceilings of air; the mystery of Love and Home…

© 2012 the spirit of Love dancing through Mark and Michelle Prime

WAILED THE THIEF

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(Heart Art (blooming) by Emelisa Mudle)
Boom, Boom, Boom goes the bomb, wailed the children with shattered lips lying underneath the blotted sun. Love! Love! Love! Bring love booming without agony, without death. 160 shards of loveblooms. 160 shells of peace. 160 shrapnels of joy. 160 portions of worship. 160 drones of affection. 160 hearts thumped their last. 160 minds changed. 160 mouths no more in laughter. 160 leftover innocents. 160 divine loves. Boom, wailed the thief! Love, wailed the children! 320 hands no more in prayer. Limbs left to quiver. 320 tender eyes ever closed. Boom, wailed the thief! Boom, wailed the thief! Let me wail love 320 times each day, howl until I too am leftover pieces. Boom, wailed the thief! Love, wailed the children!

Love, help us...
© 2011 by mark prime

My Share of This Day 8.22.12

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Share and share alike the loving parts of your beliefs, just be careful not to carry them so tightly that you inadvertently strangle Love in the process…

My share of this day,
My true breath and tainted air,
In destruction do they lay.
Where is our sorrowful Love
Deliver me to me on the way
And no end this Life shall attend.
All are in Love’s Heaven
When her veil begins its lift;
O! Why must we suffer in this?
eartH is Love and Creation’s reverence,
we stewards of angels to come.
Give me your hand and heart,
Tote with you a loving tongue;
Carry love in silky laughter
Or eartH becomes life’s grave
Bring on the righteous love,
Maybe then I’ll fade away and echo,
“Full Love does come our way”!


© 2012 the spirit of Love dancing through Mark and Michelle Prime

8.22.12 Suffering and intolerable cruelty to be the vessels of Love

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(Venkatesan M --- Pollution)
I’m attempting to squeeze in every spirit’s belief it collected from you as if your flesh and bone and heart and blood and thought were a machine designed to bring an overabundance of satisfaction to the one exactness, God if you will...

Suffering and intolerable cruelty to be the vessels of Love and never believing in it as you’ve imagined it…?

Who among us has not suffered? Who among us has suffered the most? Who among us doesn’t lie to themselves for too long?

The collective self is what we’re going to need to snuff the flame of fear and soar to Heavenly eartH to give thanks for our familiar, old song and dance that can, in my opinion, only come from being silent and engaging nature as we were intended...

Stage 2 - We’re all Creators. (Some training is required. Not sold separately, or as a doctrine.)

This is my story.

(Choose eversleep or eternity, either way, you’re safe.)

I believe that we're in eternity as we speak. Lessons meant to bring our …

8.22.12 We are as a Whole of Creation

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(Earth Angels Art)
I’m in heaven.

(You are part of the whole of Creation, the 100% of everything, everyone, and every day ever imagined.)

If you think this is false, imagine the benefit, wrong or right, that would come along with loving deeds, even if it isn’t the one exactness, that’s unknown and shall likely stay unknown until we earn it by changing back to who we are and shed our vapid hunger?

(Silence…)

Stupid's a harsh term to use... Our intelligence pale's in comparison to that of Creation, wouldn't you imagine? I suppose that makes us all pretty danged stupid, yet somewhat confident.

(The whisper of traffic, birdsong, fly, grass, flower, willow tree, Love.)

Where was I?

(…)

I sense that I may tuck this belief in for now and return for a while to the man I was meant to be. But there I go repeating myself… again.

(Knucklehead.)

Curmudgeon…


© 2012 the spirit of Love dancing through Mark and Michelle Prime

God and Love

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(Make her God, my friend. You’re in good hands…)

Better yet, make everyone able to become a God, we are after all the children of creation, are we not? What exactly did we think we would turn out to be in this, our Creation play?

The one exactness, whatever it may or may not be is beside the point, and to be quite honest with you, our grave search for knowledge has nearly been nothing but self-importance and entertainment designed to flatter the sense of the self instead of to recognize it’s tattered frame…

We are creators for God’s sake, so let’s create! Let’s not spend our time rehashing old memories into destructive reality, let’s create a new and vibrant memory of our Love for all and to the (H)eartH and Heart(H) of our Creation…

(What does that mean? And, please, be exact in your answer?)

Nothing exactly comes to mind, but my instinct was thriving throughout it…

Why would this come to mind? I’d imagine it has its place in the long line of clues as to what’s happening to me, but …

8.20.12 Forgiveness All Around

I imagine I’m writing many times that I should be praying and giving thanks to the Mother of the (H)eartH. The father just may be next for us upside-down headed children, an experiment, if you will? Will? Who had a choice in the matter? We’ve been programmed to receive some as of yet recognized signal from the angels on this eartH. We may be wingless, but God Almighty can we ever soar…

(More soaring, less roaring. Give silence a chance to breathe…)

She’s been in her solitude as long as she can remember. She’s been in her silence for longer than she probably even should in order to forgive her children their transgressions.

I was programmed to receive, if truth be told, and I’m okay with that. The eartH knows I deserve the lesson…

(Time…)

(End.)

How can Time and End exist, there’s no such thing as either…?

If we’re tired, it ain’t from lack of trying…

(The sense is as exhilarating as it is destructive.)

End our vicious cycle of thieving greed and murder and war and rape and misguided judg…

8.20.12 Instantly More Perceptible

Maybe it's about the consciousness which might result in the unconscionable arising...? Shift our consciousness, our awareness of who and what we are and sky is the limit in the flesh, leaving deeds the latest trend...

Love, peace and goodness to you, yours and the eartH...

(It’s up to you.)

It’s just another belief.

(How would you know if you haven’t considered it?)

The dog lays down his baritone and my ears are instantly more perceptible. The bay of a hound is distinct instinct bred into man…

What I could not know, lucky for me, was the same thing as what I should not know… How could I possibly know the unknowable? How could I possibly begin to become what I was born to be if I did not collect fearful spirit first, that I might unwind them and make some sense to lay upon the rest, but only after I’ve imagined their reality, lived it vicariously so to speak. It can get rather crowded in my belief, 7 billion’s a lot of mouths to feed. Imagine the overtime Christ or Muhammad would …

8.20.12 I am not God, I am a Product of God, as are You…

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Save for very little fear we’ve only use for Love. Fear I had to dismiss, it kept getting in the way of Love. Maybe my head injury has begun its damage control and I’m not really there just yet in my evolution, or maybe the warning is the whole is not prepared for such a revelation…

We’ve all been doing it wrong! It is the eartH that we must ask forgiveness from our foul deeds. Our loving deed to the eartH’s skin is our most cherished within and without…

We forgive him, because he did it for Love…

We forgive them that react to our collective horror. We forgive ourselves of our gravest sin… greed, a detriment to the whole…

Full Love, in my (our) belief, Full Love is simply the collective spirit. Without giving up your God, you can see that this actionable Love is worth renewing, surely we have within us a sense of our responsibility as a child of Creation to not abuse your surroundings? Our surroundings, they are what we imagine they are, not what they actually are, we deem that which…

Full of Ourselves

Maybe we're not supposed to be so damned full of ourselves?

Maybe the lesson is for us to keep our traps and our machines quiet long enough to hear the (H)eartH's song, the tune the (H)eartH's been playing from the beginning...

How's that for lazy afternoon conversation? Shouldn't we discuss the things that truly matter and not the days score or catch or human triumph that does nothing to counterbalance our consumptive nature?

© 2012 the spirit of Love dancing through Mark and Michelle Prime

8.20.12 Come Dance With Me

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Is there rest from this eternity? Might we summon sleep for awhile to just be with Love and God as they hold us near them in blissful sleep…?

(I’ll take some of that sleep.)

Really, Curmudgeon?

(Yes. Between you yammering all day and night and the rest of us closing off our ears to her plea is it any wonder you sound like a raving lunatic!)

Yes, but the option’s are limited…

Come dance with me, I’ll dance with you in turn and you and I and you and you and you and you and you and you and you and you and me and you and you and you and you and you and you and you and you and you ad you and Love…

The quake begins just below my feet- boom boom boom and a rat-a-tat-tat boom boom! The traffic swirls in the machine, Love’s just trying to get out!

This is Heaven…

(O! Good God! Of course it is! …You’d have to be blind, deaf and woefully prideful to not have always known that.)

There aren’t that many things my friends that we truly need to know- air, water, soil, sustenance, shelter. Five necessit…

The HeartH of Creation’s Song

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I don’t know, I believe. But what I am able to know must be champion according to what I know, which is very little in the larger scheme; the flipside to belief, if you will.

I had little choice in the matter when it came to Love. She doesn’t like to play silly games of greed, lust and control. Damnable fear…

Who needs fear on eartH? I need instinct and free will…

With all of the noise, I’m missing the HeartH of Creation’s song beneath my feet and over my head.

I’m inside of Creation, a child yet to be born…

I had to fade out, a breath held deeply, waiting on the truth to whisper an ode in my ear…

I could recall them one at a time, the shadows that tore at my heels to keep me from tumbling headlong. I didn’t run from them, I entered in and did bid them to bend their pleas to the majesty of the (H)eartH of Love…

Mother and Father, child and angel, woman and man, animal, spirit collectors, Love...

(Spirit collectors? Really?)

I shouldn’t just have belief to fall back on… tumble instea…

The Imagined Suffering Found in Peace

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Let’s not forget how difficult and grave we’ve made our minds beneath our fearful affections, and, instead of making the spirit of Love, that which is in us all, rise to the occasion of suffering no more, eternal bliss, we chose to wage war against the eartH of Creation…

I am a human being dancing with the spirit of Love. She is resilient and most sorrowful that we’ve forgotten our eartHly Mother and the Mother eartH…

(Let’s not be too quick to jump sides because of the imagined suffering found in peace. Peace is an integral part of Love.)

In my opinion, noise is the adversary to love, peace, forgiveness, life and laughter, to all that is essential to Love…

(Become a reflection of Love. Don’t have Creation fit to your size, instead fit it snuggly within your spirit…)



© 2012 the spirit of Love dancing through Mark and Michelle Prime

8.17.12 I am Born to be Love

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It’s where you are that matters most, not what you’re surrounded by…

Let’s not begin to imagine that even these words that pour out of me for any number of reasons is truth, because like I’ve been trying to point out, that is what’s happening to me, isn’t as pleasant as one might imagine, it’s painful paying for your sins before you can speak the word of God. I’d such a long way to travel.

I am born to be Love, like we all are, but my head was flipped upside-down and I was drowning of fear, so it’s taken me way too long to get back to the surface of Love and scribe for her this ode…

(But you hadn’t the consent of all!)

I needn’t ask for the spirit of Love, it runs full stream through us all if we’ll but engage it, the spirit of Love is separate from our fear.

It remains eternal, does Love.

Life’s in mid-flight when it’s at its beginning, in the middle and here until Creation decides it’s time to dance.

(What about the ending?)

There isn’t one, unless you choose to eversleep away from…