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ALWAYS YOUNG!


The night is always young when time ceases to exist.

~

It is true, enough talk of change and it begins to enter the flow of my own purpose,
I do not pretend, I am true. True.

I only say this to let you know that I am not just anybody’s fool…

The songs begin and I hear their echo, I repeat it backward, the story unfolds. It is so much simpler than humankind has been imagining it for far too many lifetimes. Not this lifetime. This lifetime around we shall unfold with a righteous purpose born in us from Exactness.

I am the prodigal son of a-
Wait it out! They can’t kill you!
I am the prodigal son of a-
Bit by bit- That’s it! Unfold.
Roll out the red carpet- the green carpet,
Bent upon one knee, I pray, I breathe, thank you.

Prodigal son of a- son-of-a- son-of-a-
This is it, the final spin for me,
I’ve used enough chances now,
I’m like three or four cats put together for what I have been spared.

(You wish, Scribbler!)

The lives of others are not necessarily my concern, but when challenged to craft a belief that challenged others to get inventive with our collective story, I found myself ashamed as I was in Heaven. Sadness comes of this, not grief, just a melancholy sprinkled with rose petals and a soundtrack that is fearful and too angry at the world, lucky for Me, (H)eartH speaks my language, too. Boom boom  

© 2015 Mark Richard Prime, I am.


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