Skip to main content

Eternity is for the Spirit...


The day drifted out to your crooning sea, the night wafted in like a dancer with echoes of spirit playing at her feet and we loved.

This goes on forever.

We need remind ourselves, that if we don’t remember the past, the dawn of man, we will not live to see that where we were was eternal. Time without end since we oozed from the primordial soil and greeted our rebirth, our soul’s Love protecting all that should be cherished.

Humankind is in full panic, obsessed with toxic things that attempt to destroy civilization with mankind erased from the spirit’s eternal memory. What did they ever have to say for her? What have you or I ever done that gave true honor to the kingdom of eternal life, destroy the most incredible gift known in the universe, the eartH? Please, won’t you stop? Listen to the sea wail the gift of life, water lapping at her shores, begging to be released from the death throes of man. We must chart a new course, not one that is stale from use, but one that includes belief. Banjo jumps in. Dance, stomp, jump and Love, and you will see your belief rear its head. Eternity is for the spirit, not the loveless greed of flesh, empty stomach, sadness, murder, war. When are we going to notice her reaction, gauge her skin with precision- quiver? When might we see that Love calls to us, that her affections swimming through all thought and everything loved with equality? When?

This goes on forever.

The night is wearing the crooning water as slippers for when they paced in sheer nervousness at their fate, the night wafted in like a dancer with spirit playing at her feet and we loved… evermore.


© 2011 by mark prime


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

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

Waiting for It

Why do they stay there, between war and peace? Sky’s tapestry doles out guns, bombs and rocks while flesh and bone swim away from the ache yet live on as the food for the murder of peace. Why do we hide from the truth as if it were an ogre while death makes a home inside their living and war dispatches a raven to their door, smirking with the teeth of empire? Why do we wait, stooped for another wink? The sky’s drapery has tossed down ample clues, peace is breathing in harmony with war. (Road-maps are useless to blind leaders.) Why do they hold there, hunched in the gloom? Hatred’s bird cackling with bereavement needs end. Are we not rightly dishonored when we fill its trough with blood? © 2007 mrp/thepoetryman

Laughter's Grip

They asked me to wait. To wait for God to come laughing, wait on His voice to destroy the golden temples of man, hold my tongue until His powerful breath was upon me, and from His loving casualties I’d at last know the Savior. They asked me to wait. To wait for God to come laughing, wait for His followers to die away their persuasive babble and the murder of Islam to breach the walls of the earth as the many damned souls drowned under holy laughter. “O! The Lord God is looming! On his way with God’s wrath! We are to take up swords and send evil howling back to die their well deserved and slow death! Their faces popped and spattered these words as they fell back, caught in His fiery presence, twisting their tongues into drivel and thrashing their minds in the glory of an Eden unlike any other. And then the snake planted his venom through the laughter of their gyrating madness. Tears emptied their pockets, spirits came crashing , and the anointed rapture of their making grew tire...