Repeating It, Most Precious

And then we engage in truth.

Sounds like a forbidden forest, so why was it ever forbidden?

The belief in another person's spirit, all persons. Be in tune with your fate and your Forgiveness. The more full Love and Laughter that carves our name in our bodies absence, the more our spirit remains loving. You were instructed of this at your birth- Careful what you imagine you are doing when you are young and irrational of fate of my Love and Forgiveness.

I'm but seconds away from my remembering, after tracing so many steps backward toward the light of Love's illumination. I must strive to bring forgiveness along to guide me. The (H)eartH's just my beginning! Rejoice in that idea, spiritual fact- forgiveness was in her absence. I imagined she should certainly come along with me in this quest to salvage my one chance at belief, to rise to something greater than my self; Truth, Life, Love and Laughter.

I keep repeating it, the thing that is most precious in my belief, the Mother, the (H)eartH. Why this play is my own creation, I mean if I was being challenged for anything you can bet your bottom dollar that is the way it's supposed to be, you want to meet God, introduce yourself kindly, then begin your walk in Love.

My brother, Philip, has some very beautiful children, they write us all letters that have that curious tone of knowing God personally and that is always beautiful to witness, and they also float with sorrow for their soon to be risen King! This is Harry Potter, meets Lord of the Rings, a musical number written, directed and produced and acted by the crown prince and princess of Creation's desire, afterall I did die to get to where I am today. Like the back of my hand I know that I was dead that night so many months ago.

(This might be a good time to write something and then as I am still in prayer expound on it, which means that I will have to read them in full and might instead add to what is missing in my dance with Love, my full and clear-eyed and most loving reflection of the spirit I claim to have within my own faith's brow...

(Sounds like you thought.)

Thought? Not in the least, how it works when the spirits got a hold on you. Who I am is beside the damned point. The words streaming out of me are not my own though my fingers do quiver to their music. What I'm saying isn't nearly the potential that's beneath all of the mystical truth's tune, it is within them, not so much without unless you ask them to dance that they might show you how...

(Because it remained sacred.)

ROOT OF

"For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil. Some people, eager for money, have wandered from the faith and pierced themselves with many griefs." __1 Timothy 6:10 It is MONEY, not the LOVE of it that is the issue, the true problem. Love, in and of itself, is never a problem, WANT and NEED, or better yet- the WANT and the conundrum of its very REQUIREMENT for our survival IS the problem, it's creation and our blind use of it is logically the ROOT. In other words, let's leave LOVE out of it altogether and deal with the facts instead. If money were not made by us as a requirement for our survival, we'd find ourselves in a much better position to argue of its need and our want of it. MRP Peace and Love © 2015 Mark Richard Prime

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........•SHRIEKING MACHINE•........ •HEAD-LINES• •RIP• ---(“Russian missiles blast Ukrainian military academy and hospital, killing more than 50, officials say”)--- There are no more lessons to learn here, no more beds to hold the human wounded, just missile’s shrieking their grotesque ode, The Death of Humankind! RIP, children of God… ---(“Hundreds attend Mercer Island vigil, march for murdered Israeli hostages”)--- Dear mourners, this is the brutal vacuum of a genocidal, terror-filled, indiscriminate war-machine made of fear and we are all hostages to its deafening roar! RIP, children of God… ---(“10-year-old allegedly confesses to fatally shooting 82-year-old man and his daughter”)--- I must confess, this is part of war’s shrieking, children lost with a we...

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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

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CONFESSION ZERO

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