CONFESSION ZERO

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

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

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

( 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 dr

(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

(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 spi