CONFESSION ZERO

I say come and get me! Let us begin our trek of the pathway back Home to the beginning of her birth of his birth and her and his births, the flux, it is not something that fathom's absolutes as it is the only absolute if our story is to be tragic, but if the story is to be funny and uplifting, upliftingly funny! Reverant! Unheard of! Yikes! Kapow! Boom! Tink! Rattlerattlerattle--rattle---rattle---rattlerattlerattlerattle---tishk. Thunk. (Laughter and clapping erupts in the halls of divinity... © 2015 Mark Richard Prime, I am.

" Hakimullah Mehsud drone strike: 'Death of peace efforts ' " What does Peace know of death? Peace is not reliant on war in order to prove its disdain for noise, in order to show us that it is the truth of us. We are peacemakers, let us be Peace and Love, We are peacemakers, let us be forgiving and let us have Creation's great laughter. What do peacemakers know of war? They are not reliant on it in order to enter in with harmony, to come laughing and loving as a collective. We are peacemakers, let us be righteous and Kind, We are peacemakers, let us be voices of reason and act like grateful heirs to Heavenly Home. What does Peace know of death? © 2013 the spirit of Love dancing through Mark Richard Prime

Good morning! Traffic, chain-saw, noise, sky, baby blue, cloud, white and grey, chain-saw, traffic! (You already said the last two, Scribbler!) They bore repeating. ~ I'm doing it all backwards, I keep forgetting to tell you. My reactions are to the truth that has already unfolded long ago. © 2013 the spirit of Love dancing through Mark Richard Prime

There are many spirits within Me, dancing to beat the band. I'm ready to evolve our dance further down the rabbit hole. The noise now skyrockets, as if they want me to end these words. Inevitably the dance brings me back to scribing without awareness. I am awake in my waking Life. The spirit is waiting at the edge. Peace © 2013 the spirit of Love dancing through Mark Richard Prime

There is only one thing- What was I thinking? (Perhaps it was the "traffic" that shocked you back into reality?) There are many. (Many "traffic"?) Spirit. It is spirit that make up the traffic. They are a tough breed, inflexible breathers, tumbling, yet with a foothold I'm painting within my fledgling belief... If we are set to know the truth, hadn't we best plan for Heaven, you know, just in case? © 2013 the spirit of Love dancing through Mark Richard Prime

Why do I march headlong into my own destruction? The vibrations that ease their way through me now are those of an ancient rhythm. A rhythm that’s weaved its way into animal and into animal and into animal and into animal- Stop! Into animal, into animal, into animal, into animal- Stop! Animal, animal, animal, animal, animal, came the somber echo… (Shhh… You might wake the night. You might sleep past your casualty, beyond your welcome.) She could do it you know. She could lift this all away, send it away with exactness, eternal life, memory. (Silence…) © 2013 the spirit of Love dancing through Mark Richard Prime

I hear the noise of traffic every day, it's a war on the environment. If I heard the noise of war every day, damn, I imagine I'd be mad as hell and shrug off the shackles of physical and spiritual domination. I'd demand to be heard by those who usurp the power of any nation on (H)eartH, demand that I be set free! ~ To whom it may concern, I am an individual sovereign entity, I alone possess my spirit, I alone possess my body, I am Me and demand you release me of your foul intentions upon this Heavenly instrument of Home. Thank you. Sincerely, Mark Richard Prime © 2013 the spirit of Love dancing through Mark Richard Prime

Hello. My name is Mark Richard Prime and I would like to call on each and everyone to begin to think of the noise that we alone have put upon precious Life. Take your services outside during your congregation, cherish what you are given, not what you imagine is yours in the offing. Imagine the unnatural noise we humans thrust upon nature as it tries to sleep, to feed, to be? Now imagine silence... Sound and silence fit like the truth. A world day of prayer in silence is needed for us to hear the song playing beneath our feet. It’s not that we have to believe it… it’s that we have to make it happen and then listen for it. We should end our foul noises and let us and Life rest for a while… Love, Peace, Forgiveness, Truth, Life, Laughter and Goodness to you, yours and the (H)eartH... Sincerely, Mark © 2013 the spirit of Love dancing through Mark Richard Prime

The flight of this chance to create has landed me front and center without enough ears to hear my plea- (Traffic!) The noise of money poisoning the air. (Birdsong.) The sound of worshiping the ground. (Metal clang!) The noise of the industry of destruction. (Red Robin!) The truth beneath its beak, as far as the bird can see... © 2012 the spirit of Love dancing through Mark Richard Prime

Salvation can only be heard beneath the noise at this moment, but the next and the next, who knows? Maybe we'll get it and become more silent in our consumption of paradise and pray that Heaven comes along... © 2012 the spirit of Love dancing through Mark Richard Prime

(Traffic creeps in!) End the foulness of noise found in our living and begin the journey to full Love and full living... © 2012 the spirit of Love dancing through Mark Richard Prime

This morning I roar this speech! Why roar, why not sing it, why not speak it within your silence? Why not stand up and be counted, seen as more than just another in the horde of others? If humankind is of one spirit then the term "horde" would mean the collective and if the collective stands up and demands that our beliefs join our reality, then we are destined for a conscience that can truly be beneficial to all life. And if all of life is our concern, we've got a journey ahead of us that will be filled with wonder and miracles never imagined coming from our actions and our thoughts. Let’s be careful then that we create with Love. In doing so, we can remove our unfounded fears forever. If it’s not instinctual, it’s irrational and if it’s irrational it’s unneeded and if it’s unnecessary, why think on it? (Because you brought it up.) Yes, but it’s not up to me to tell you, kind spirit, what to think about any particular proposition in belief, it’s up to you as...

Creation’s sound. The loveliest of birds greeted me this morning! They sang their morning warble as if to say all is going along as it should be, as it was meant to be. Their lovely song mesmerized me in dance with the eartH’s spirit swirling in me like October’s oft wintry breeze telling me that death is nothing more and nothing less than life gone beneath itself to the beginning, to Love… How could it be another way, my friends? How is it possible to have missed such a beautiful truth just beneath the feet? The HeartH of Creation’s song plays most crisp in the morning, it opens its eyes to itself as if it were all new again, as if the noise of life-fouled traffic were a waking dream and the truth was eartH’s sounds arising to greet itself and its sun… Love, you’ve been waiting for the day our noise won’t place itself upon the throne and bequeath this land as if to we and not, instead, for thee! O! Please forgive me my indifference! I am so sorry. Leave the motor running, the...

What if we could fathom it all while we are in the flesh and spirit? Why do we imagine that it's not possible, that it can't be another way, that perhaps we're all wrong about our existence's conclusion? I believe it would be reasonable as well as beneficial if we bring ourselves to imagine that our belief, our personal take on our reason for being, is completely and utterly wrong. The likelihood of our knowing that answer is as hidden from us as the truth of the (H)eartH that's writhing beneath our feet... (Balance is most important.) Yes. (Noise!) Silence… (Sound…) Love. (Love.) Love. (ping) © 2012 the spirit of Love dancing through Mark Richard Prime

Right after the sky had seemingly dumped all its gloom upon this world and sunny days lay ahead of us… some of us… maybe some lucky son of the rich. Just when the world could use some talk of peace and healing of wounds and unruffled reflection allowed to descend… or shine… or sidle between dry lips. O! That this world could make use of silence or a hushed and soothing reverie from the heavy chains knotted around our breath. The tongues are corroded over with idols and liars and hordes of impish drones and toadies and criminals, a fine mess we’ve made of it! A fine mess we’re into now, a world in disarray. And someone’s going to stop breathing tonight. A father’s going to cry, kill or pray as someone else will sleep far away from his grief. Sleep roundly without sorrow. The moving sand and running streets and flying steel pilfering the radiance will send a messenger, a virgin warrior, with tidings of community and expectation, only to return with news of a lifeless planet with lif...

It is not written anywhere that I know of that the eartH needs our silence (as well as our life, laughter and love), but I’d imagine it is so based on the fact that our noise brings nothing of any benefit to the eartH. By noise I mean war, genocide, murder, machines of extraction, machines of pollution, and most, if not all, machines of industry. Our foul noise truly has no benefit to our survival as a species and it certainly has no benefit to nature, at least none that I can see. (Where is it written that the eartH needs silence? I mean it sounds stupid, numbskull! It’s just another planet!) It may sound stupid to you, Curmudgeon, but I see the eartH quite differently. To me it is not just another planet; it is water, air, soil, vegetation, life. It’s not too difficult to see the eartH as an exceptional planet, is it? (Silence…) © 2012 the spirit of Love dancing through Mark Richard Prime

I hope this note finds you well my talented friend, one who seeks his truth within the self and finds God standing there. Love, peace and goodness to you, yours and the (H)eartH. Abel & Noah, two sides of the one coin that we humans can summon, love, or fear. The battle's not to be waged on eartH, but within ourselves, the battle comes when we recognize who, and then where, we are... The beginning needn't any remembrance, it needs light, that we might stave off the Freewill's death. (Slavery.) If you must. Two sides of the same reality. One is the freewill of Love (truth) and the other is war (fear), pure madness! There's hope in this one, the other's dry as a bone! Boom boom goes one, welcome home goes the other. The one I need to trust in this duality has been hidden by a name. The spirit's alive and well, not an nth of fear. Been playing longer than me, you imagine? Our age in the flesh is impatient compared to the eternity of lifetimes unt...

(September is Hunger Month, what’s your emergency?) When hunger strikes it is not as swift, it is not as jaw droppingly horrific or nearly as visual or pragmatic as when terror comes. (Hello? This is Terror, what’s your emergency?) Terror comes as a thundering blast, piercing the rust of contentment, disintegrating steely assurance, hunger slithers in. (Silence…) News of terror strikes fear and panic, seduces our pounding, frantic wits with darkness, dust and death devouring whatever’s left. (Silence…) Hunger pays no attention to time or place running our courage over our eyes with the private ghastliness of its teeth veiled in bravery’s demise. (Silence…) We’d recognize hunger in a crowded airport. Know it if we accidentally bumped into it and turn away from its ugly and careworn face. Terror’s not made that way. It arrives with a most thunderous shot, penetrating the crust of our indulgence, obliterating our steely assurance while hunger slithers in. (Silence…) ...

(911, what's your emergency?) The sun had its sky, the sky had its blue, the blue had its clouds, all held to an ensuing loss. (Sir, you dialed 911, what's your emergency?) The world had its nectar to offer; stunning mountain ranges, plentiful fields of grain, sustaining waters… (That's lovely, sir, but how can I help you? Do you have an emergency?) The sky did then forsake them on this day; widowed of a pristine love bathing them in joy, the weight of it unhappily tumbled down, congregating with one another, mourning… (This line is for emergency calls only, sir.) The sun had its sky, the sky had its blue, the blue had its clouds, all gripped in looming collapse. (I can connect you with the chamber of commerce?) After the shock of death’s swift alliance with anger they held their heads high and marched onward, all the while in grief’s search they strode past denial and posed the earth's hovering question; Why did the sky abandon our trust? “I’ve never...

It was like a slap in the face, this noise that wafted over the sound… They stood in line to let me dance with their fears- O! Slap! O! Slap! O! What a snarled tapestry of belief that’s crafted from shadows darting in and out of Love as if they were needles filled with rage! When are we to gather as a species and begin our song? We must begin to sing the echo of her plea through the movement and motion of who we are all born to be, stewards... O! The cry of the spirit of Love is piercing even the dogs as we speak, their high and constant howl ringing over the traffic… (Echo…) © 2012 the spirit of Love dancing through Mark Richard Prime