CONFESSION ZERO

I’m still smoking. I don’t know why… I’m human? I may have made that particular promise to the wrong side of Love, my fears, to I, not me. Quitting is such sweet sorrow. Do not smoke, do not do as I do, unless in me you sense my image as a reflection of Love… Just because I chose the fullness of Love over fear doesn’t mean I’m out of the woods. Love’s a tough instinct. It wrestles with doubt- Damn thinking brain! Why couldn’t we have played nice, remembered the reason for our existence, kept our wits about us, held on for our dear Life instead of letting life, love and laughter turn on itself? O! My Lovely angel Love! Your forgiveness and grace have me stymied. Their power makes it hard to travel so freely about my task, its current is swift, but its journey is most memorable… (What journey? You’re sitting on your ass painting wordy pictures! Why don’t you do something, Rimnod!) I am. (Well that’s not good enough!) Love, dear spirit, guides me along the path. I am merely...

(A bowed head goes a long way in humbling you, Mark Richard Prime…) My journey into belief’s unknowable unknown has humbled me as possibilities unfolded before me one frame at a time. One frame held all my fears, the others, an eartH like I’d never imagined before. (Ignorance might well be bliss to some people, but sightlessness is to none.) I was blind. I had to have been to have missed her beneath me. Oh! The shame in that alone is nearly enough to spin me out of control within this prayer. I see myself as most guilty at having abused Love, both of the flesh and the spirit. Love hadn’t much reason to have whispered her vision inside of me, my sightlessness, my fearfulness of that which I could not know and of that which I never managed to remember… Let me remember her flesh and her wings, her nectar and her green, let me pray to what I know, no more praying to belief. Just how long did I imagine I could worship my human mind’s unfortunate imagination without ever sensing t...

(Saffron Craig) I’m judging them one by one, these visions that writhe before me! She calls to us- We sought you, it isn’t about you, Mark Richard Prime it is throughout you! It is not the fame they seek, it is but the truth… ~ Person: So...r u a poet or something???/ Mark: I'm a writer, yes. Love, peace and goodness to you, yours and the eartH... Person: Ok kewl just wondering thanks I need it right now!!! Mark: You are most welcome, my friend... Person: Tammy: ‎;) Thanks!! (Love: Side thought- Hello, brother, neighbor, friend. You’re learning…) Person: When I read the line "It is I, Mark Richard Prime, greeting your sorrow with Love," a tear rolled slowly out of the corner of my eye and down my cheek. Why? I don't know. Maybe it's because I realized there is somebody out there, somebody who I don't get to see much of anymore, who really cares about other people, their real feelings and the expression of love. Maybe that's what prompt...