CONFESSION ZERO

(Photo thanks to  Ray Derousse ) Daddy? Why is there war? It’s human nature, son. Daddy? Why is there peace? ... © 2011 by mark prime

There’s reason dancing with Love. There’s Love dancing with reason. (Fear asks if it might have the next. Yes. I say to fear, but only after Love bows out, will I dance with you.) There’s Love and then there’s fear waiting in a line. There’s Love. There’s fear. There’s never fear next to Love and there’s never Love next to fear, only attachment. I worship Love, not fear. Love shall hold me as equal partner, fear only shreds away my bond. Floating in humbleness, I pray that fearless Love still has her chance to invite my soul to dance. (Sinking beneath my reason, my fears dispense with my Love and reign alone.) There’s humility inside of Love. There’s Love inside of humility. There’s belief inside of grace. There’s grace inside of belief. There’s peace inside of prayers and prayers inside of peace. Pray for the spirits to begin their journey to self, then onward to selflessness, and even further into the spirit-filled flesh to my own awareness, surrounded by Love's spiri...

( Photography Match ) Skylight Harvests Sunlight, Reduces Energy Costs Sunlight radiates all around me, my dwelling lit by stars, me, by life, beast, by breath, seas by the glint of goodness. I'll reap what is sewn by what is known. Scientists Still Struggle to Identify 9/11 Remains Reminders of death are rigid things. Tokens of reason are elusive things. Floating particles, drifting dust and bone enter my lungs to remain. Quake a wake-up call for Eastern U.S. Alarms summon me to work, summon me to play and summon me to church. The Mother summons me to do something long before my alarm’s minuscule quake… Hurricane Irene targets East Coast, many evacuate, cities brace She’s not aiming for any particular coast, she’s being pushed against her will, madness pushing against joy. I've angered her, used her long enough, she’s unhappy, not mad… Mexico casino attack leaves 53 dead Place your bets on hate, this wasn't an act of love. So take your money. Lay claim t...

( The Galactic Free Press ) Mark:  It’s a figment of my imagination, all of this humankind business, all of it, each and every last one of man, woman and child.  Mother: And every spirit that is with eternity, crying out to you, jumping up and down trying to rumble a warning for your spirit and flesh. Your love and you. Your animal, lord and life, lord and death. So why are you encased with spirit which is not yours to carry away or to ruthlessly pawn, sell or trade, or imagine that you could begin to own? Mark :  But what of the spirit that is self? Mother:  You mean the spirit you were born from, the eartH? Mark :  Earth? Mother:  Everyone’s eartH. Mark :  Mother’s are the reason we’re here. Yes. Mother:  Mother and Father, but I’m speaking of everything and everyone’s Mother, The (H)eartH. Mark : You mean  Earth? Mother:  Why not (H)eartH? Mark :  You’re mad! Mother:  And you’re too filled wit...

Shaving Kit Fits In Wallet Dense and rigid, reminds me of Mankind and his thinking. Soon we’ll be able to squeeze war inside, between the rape and greed, in front of love and joy, behind hate and cruelty. What an invention, war… Roman Shipwreck Full of Wine Jars Found Their medicine, drained of time, drunk with power, dead from misuse. Rome, then, did burn, wine, its mortal elixir. U.S. residents, military ships move out of Hurricane Irene's path To see the shores breathing with panic depends upon which particular shoreline we trudge as our winked eyes witness her gaping tears flooding our use with the broken dam of love. We’re sorrowful and buoyant for another minute of joy to brush up against our garments, but the stench of melted plastic has us spellbound, like persistent war, famine, and thirst. Irene’s the latest caution. Her nod, our loss. We stand slack jawed, soiled, terrified, waiting for what moment she’ll greet us with mourning, howling down upon her way...

( Ancient Trails ) Have your God, your Allah, your Elohim, your Christ, your Gods all, save for one, the eartH! She is not mine to leave spoiled, she belongs unto herself. She is beautiful, is she not? Yes! She waits upon me, upon my love. Listen to my own words. Hear how they move round and round and would never be or have been without The Mother. My birth? Your birth? Christ's birth? What of The Mother's birth? She’s life, as I know it, but she's so much more than just another planet, she's love, she's goodness, she's the flower and the fruit of all things. All, and I am her child, all grown up now and smart. O! I've much to learn and grow and even more to learn and groan! I am a child of the kingdom of creation, The Mother, The Grandmother, The Great Grandmother, The eartH, Love, Life, Water, Mountain, Air, Sky, and Animal. Whatever I choose to call creation, it's a learning ground, not a playground. I have learned so little of where ...

( Pixdaus ) He asked me where my brother was… “He’s shaking your hand.” He looked puzzled and asked me what I had been doing all these years… “Mostly messing it up for everyone else, much like everyone else.” Again he looked perplexed and said that I had always been the odd one… “Even, odd, makes no difference to me, I love you nonetheless.” He tensely asked what my brother had been doing all these years… “I don’t know. What have you been doing all of these years?” He politely tried to move out of the frame of my dream by saying goodbye… “And a good day to you, my friend.” He laughed and said that he thought we were brothers... “Family, cousin, brother, it’s all the same to me my friend.” I awoke to a gentle laughter in my heart. The End… © 2011 by mark prime