CONFESSION ZERO

Where would it take me if I walked up to everyone I knew and asked them where they thought they were? Would I come away from the experiment any the wiser? Would the outcome of my prayers be known? One at a time- (1) Perplexed stares because I begged to differ. 2) Only if I remember. 3) Not until the outcome of my prayers. (What?) The answers to your questions. (They were my questions to give to you, that you might ask them of yourself…) I still think I’m in half dream, half reality, aren’t we all? But to discern what is real I only need remember the pain and suffering from not knowing where the most important thing, at least in our purposed minds, actually is. Look no further above your heads and kneel upon the (H)eartH’s forgiving ground. Purpose is beneath our eyes, and we weep for things that matter little to our Heavenly Home. She is forgiveness and we are in great need of it… (ping) Rat-a-tat boom… Love. (ping) (Sound.) (Silence…) (Echo…) Again.

Before they didn’t know a thing about me, now I’m trying to convince them that this is heaven. Help me help you and of our quest not tarry, she rises as we speak, the eartH, my sacred vow. The eartH is the garden of our long lost Eden. Ours must be a loving stewardship of the Heavenly grounds of Heaven… Get me a coffee, stat! I need supercharged for what’s set to come. It is the whole of Love to stave off our recklessness and pride, squatting on the eartH without a shred of grace! This is, in my opinion the will of God, Allah, Christ and Love that we come together at this moment of our existence, lifetimes after lifetimes, repeating, and cleanse the Mother eartH of our misuse… If one follows the pathway to Love they may take the exit ramp just before Love and instead challenge God. Which came first, Love or God? (Too easy. God.) No. (Love?) Both, simultaneously. Together as one since the inception of God, if that’s even possible… At once. At inception. We have no ful

I’m a cresting rainbow, a waterfall, a thunder clap and lightening roll, a human bearer of love, a scroll, a scribe, a magician, a forgiven mortal, a lightening bolt beneath the radar, a child joyfully competing for the fullness of Love! © 2012 the spirit of Love dancing through Mark and Michelle Prime

If belief is eternal then belief is not ours to add an ending, no conclusion of any kind, it is ours to paint from. Belief’s the paint, the eartH’s the canvas, so we must be the brush. (Maybe you’re the artist?) Yes. The scribe of Love, the painter of Love, the pirouette of Love, the orchestra of Love, the mother of Love, the father of Love, the sister, brother, aunt and uncle of Love, the creator’s of Love- What were the instructions again? I think I missed the memo on that particular day? Help me out my friends, have I truly been asleep that long? Have I not tumbled into my own dream and you are but mere actors on Life’s boiling stage- Cue the light! Cue the robots consumption! More blood! We need more blood! And… action! Yes. More action’s needed indeed… Heaven. Love. Truth. Laughter. Joy. Life. We are there already, so we best make a most loving choice now. And now and now and now and now and now and now and now and now and now and now and now and now and laughter and

The roles we choose have always been at our fingertips, if we’d but think with only Love and leave our fears vanquished of their tumble… The eartH is my Heavenly Home. My Heavenly Home is the Heart(H) and the (H)eartH of the HeartH. Where in hell did I imagine myself to be? Again, I repeat myself… © 2012 the spirit of Love dancing through Mark Richard Prime

The wind and the fan circle their tirade around me, or is it my tirade circling round them? I am a human being and that’s all I can expect of you to think of me. Flawed, loving, but what of my duty? Am I not beholden to the eartH of Creation despite what I believe? Am I not the one that suffers without knowing why or where I am? It’s the who and the what that has me singing her song, me, a steward of love for the (H)eartH of Creation, which, at this moment, I still cannot know… and I’m okay with that. Trust in Love and Love will guide the “you” to the “me”, and the “me” will take the hand to lead the “you” and the “me” into the arms of eternal Love… If I am loving to all and to the eartH (there I go repeating myself), if I am loving I’ll gather goodness as if it were a blanket to drape ‘round Love… In my belief, if I am to be loving, I must weave the blanket with the fullness of my affections; my evolving Life, Love and Laughter… © 2012 the spirit of Love dancing through Mar

(Liar!) Yes. Like I said before, everything’s a lie. Rejoice at knowing that you can’t know, that you don’t know. Belief’s a brute. It comes with a spirit or two who don’t play nice. (Sounds like an excuse.) Like none other. (Liar!) Yes. It all is. What we believe can’t be what is, God would have to be some monster in the sky instead of a part of the gift of the eternal Life beneath our feet… Eternity has already happened my friends. Eternity is. Get used to it, or go to sleep forevermore. Sleep forever, eternally. That’ll be simple for humankind to pull off, they’re so damn good at closing their eyes to their gravest sin; the attempted murder of all Life, Love and Laughter… (Silence…) Love! (Liar!) Enough! For the love of the HeartH end this your game of fearful beasts! Let us remember, let us know where we are, not where we believe we are! It is time for us to relinquish this God-fouled belief and begin to cleanse and restore what it is we know! Stop repeating

Climb the walls of oppression! Run as fast as you are able! She waits on your bare footsteps atop the HeartH. The Heart(H) thrums its answers beneath your questions of self… Are they rare, these children born to war? Am I missing something? Doesn’t the worship of war and the worship of the warrior signify that our species has run its course? Fear is steering our ship into hell instead of Heaven. War is the ultimate murderer. It is the life sentence for the innocent and the guilty- And we wonder why our children walk into schools armed to the teeth with rage? Are you kidding me? It’s not the child. It is us, our warring. Stop… What divides us? What has the other done to warrant witnessing their children’s blood splattered on the walls? What grave sin has one to commit to top the slaughter of innocent children, children ripped from the Mother’s grasp, parents shrieking, children’s howling scattered about the landscape? O! War must come to an end! It cannot last for eternity, th

Everything I've said is a lie. It’s belief, and just because you or I believe it, doesn’t mean it nears the truth of what’s to come... Belief is not truth, it may have minute resemblance to the one exactness, but it certainly can’t begin to paint the truth, can it? (The truth of our devout beliefs, yes.) What of our reality? Doesn’t it, our truth, garner as much or more of our consideration as our beliefs? Wouldn’t that then render belief nearer to fiction, nearer to falsehood than our minds can fathom of the one non-fiction exactness? Call it God, call it Christ, Call it Allah, or any name you see fit, but the one exactness has had enough of our rhetoric of love. It’s time for our fullness of affection to breach the walls we’ve erected into prison cells that we might lock away our Life, our Love and our Laughter. © 2012 the spirit of Love dancing through Mark and Michelle Prime