These Mists of Lifetime- Love, Forgiveness, Truth, Peace, Laughter...

The people call out, “Help us!”

A thundering echo, “Save yourself!”

~

Just be careful what I wish for my never-end, Heavenly Home or Makeshift Hell?

Give me your trust and I will weave it into your delight…

~

Another chance says the man with Love and God’s fullness. Where do you think these words come from? Rest assured these thoughts come not from fear.

I am trying to act my dear daughters and Lovely angel Love, I am moving at the pace set forth by the grace of Love, otherwise, I’d be absolutely bonkers.

The story has unfolded in my direction, yet now it has surpassed Love and Peace…

~

I am here to receive. Caution from both human sides, fear and love- it’s an instinctual battle to overcome want.

Take what you need, not what you can earn or thieve or blast or soil in the least.

All is forgiven when we begin to sail these mists of lifetimes. Go. Go to the truth and beyond. Time and place are irrelevant. (This is the truth as far as I have the capacity to imagine.)

I fell into this from out of the choices I made in life. I am so very sorry that I ruined what was to have been a great cause for celebration, not fear (my past loveless gestures), but with love and forgiveness wrap her arms around me and she call me father. I have to earn it by scribing Love’s belief which became a play script that cannot end, will not end until my forgiveness comes full center, to me.

I accepted that it was my creation to carve from out of the love found within me and I hit the ground tumbling, my cup was empty. So, I used the (H)eartH’s remedy… Eradicating Peace’s herb will surely fail while we’re in the sovereign flesh. Love and Creation would have it no other way.

I had to do both. …It’s complicated.

(No. It’s not, scribe. It’s a snip and a snap and a rat a tat tat.)

Not as easy as that. But yes, it’s what my upside down headed thinking will get me…

I never would have thought that, God&Love…?

Careful, that while you’re doing the wrong thing, you always know where it is that you’ve come. Make the best of it while you’re breathing in the flesh and, while you’re at it, keep that fire burning until the stars set their course in your vision…

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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