Skip to main content

Murmuring Voices


The full moon meanders over my view
as the night air breathes its murmuring voices
chirping a song for the evolution of the spirit,
a light on Love's way across the sky of my fated slip.

I listen that I might sense my place,
these words as testament to Love's waltz with Peace.
Forgiveness is the tempo found in Creation's choreography.
Laugh with me, I ask them, dance that I might feel?

My bare feet move in an awkward formation,
hands opened up, an invitation to a poor man's dance,
humbled by tired knees, a thankful heart, a marionette of truth
beneath the sky of stars whose moon gazes upon by chance.

O! The dance floor is most inviting with its undetected motion,
like the waves of a distant music reaching out to my animal's breath.
Sleep beckons my waking life in the dream within the dream,
a tribute to a living, to Life's honest return from death.

Moonlight awash over the field of dark green musings,
nature's orchestra playing an ode in the night's thrumming
to the sacred ground's innocuous whispers. Come, dreams,
enter Me and weave a blanket of stars to sleep beneath...

© 2013 the spirit of Love dancing through Mark Richard Prime

Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

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
Post a Comment
read the poem
........•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...
Post a Comment
read the poem

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