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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

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