STEP AWAY FROM THE CRAG

Step back impetuous spirit, the crag beckons. There is nothing kept from me here, wherever I am, it is revealed. Your use of it had best be loving and not devoutly angry or with some delusion of place...

(Why don't you just stop and be content?)

I am becoming contented, I have a longer route than most due to my choices and the story's pace, but contentment depends on our reason for being to sense the essence of itself, so I suppose I'm just lucky! Ha!

What a beautiful day!

ONE...

We have to trace our own steps from last year in order to understand the echo coming back from the last time we failed to recall the lesson.

TWO...
Dear lovely love, I have sensed in you a shift if your consciousness... Might I join you for just such a forgiving occasion or do I need suffer more because of it?

THREE...

I have been so sickened by the calamity of Spirit, and even though my animal wants to flee, Spirit demands I trudge on toward the voice of reason, toward the thing I am... Is it truly up to us to decide that? Not alone, no. Creation is always with us, like God. To imagine it another way is not the truth of it.

Do I "know" this all to be true? No, but still I do manifest it.

FOUR...

God bless the teachers, a profession we understand since we all are teachers.

These questions will not be found in college, maybe during school, but it is not the education or the educator, it is the experience. It is experience that we are programmed to receive and send...

Sounds like rocket science, but it is so very simple.

FIVE...

These things that we might one day know by their unfolding are not knowable, they are the things of our dreams which enter from our full experience of them unfolding.

Breathe... Breathe... Be humble.

SIX...

I have left politics behind in order to breathe, and to allow me to sense our likenesses and not our differences. I needn't have held on so tightly to those things that are divisive, that attempt to own and conquer the very things they can't.

To be known...
We need sense this familiarity,
Our equal worth as One.

I see our work as something that does not attempt the impossible, but instead attempts to lovingly manifest that which is possible, or at least be satisfied by that which has always been here as our sustenance...

Love & Peace

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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