Skip to main content

Finely-Feathered Spirits


Good morning my finely-feathered spirits… How do I begin without the (H)eartH’s remedy to cure what haunts me? The Holy Crown, the Love of My Being’s Bountiful Forgiveness.

Yes. It is that simple. Laugh at my gait if you will, but I am bursting at the seams with sorrow. And then, suddenly, I’m bursting with gladness in my heart, I’m rambling on about the (H)eartH and Love and Peace coupled with Forgiveness, and all the while, Life is happening without me!

(A definition of hell if there ever was one!)

And suddenly the traffic swoops in and I am with you. I do not want to be amongst the noise of humankind’s hell, it is bringing me to rage at the light.

Smoke now enters my lungs, awful, terrible habit! I balance it out with the noise we’ve crafted of our minds and realize that this habit pales in comparison to the truth of this moment in our allotted time to become the fullness of Love. Too bad, silence along with loving sounds would have given us Heaven. We should have gone the other way, toward silence, not muted, but most lovingly true.

This is real, my friends and I am creating it in Heaven. So, for the Love of Christ, ask me...

(Possible conundrum made of belief.)

Then I shall change my own fate to match that of this vision of Heaven. Wait?

I will not argue about the truth within my visions, they are God and Love, Peace and Forgiveness. I have little else, but to speak these words, and I'm rather sure I've found them to be most telling of my truth, who I was supposed to be, but was not.

© 2013 the spirit of Love dancing through Mark Richard Prime

Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

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
32 comments
read the poem

Waiting for It

Why do they stay there, between war and peace? Sky’s tapestry doles out guns, bombs and rocks while flesh and bone swim away from the ache yet live on as the food for the murder of peace. Why do we hide from the truth as if it were an ogre while death makes a home inside their living and war dispatches a raven to their door, smirking with the teeth of empire? Why do we wait, stooped for another wink? The sky’s drapery has tossed down ample clues, peace is breathing in harmony with war. (Road-maps are useless to blind leaders.) Why do they hold there, hunched in the gloom? Hatred’s bird cackling with bereavement needs end. Are we not rightly dishonored when we fill its trough with blood? © 2007 mrp/thepoetryman
12 comments
read the poem

Laughter's Grip

They asked me to wait. To wait for God to come laughing, wait on His voice to destroy the golden temples of man, hold my tongue until His powerful breath was upon me, and from His loving casualties I’d at last know the Savior. They asked me to wait. To wait for God to come laughing, wait for His followers to die away their persuasive babble and the murder of Islam to breach the walls of the earth as the many damned souls drowned under holy laughter. “O! The Lord God is looming! On his way with God’s wrath! We are to take up swords and send evil howling back to die their well deserved and slow death! Their faces popped and spattered these words as they fell back, caught in His fiery presence, twisting their tongues into drivel and thrashing their minds in the glory of an Eden unlike any other. And then the snake planted his venom through the laughter of their gyrating madness. Tears emptied their pockets, spirits came crashing , and the anointed rapture of their making grew tire...
23 comments
read the poem