Rejoice that the sky is mine to wonder of, not conquer, that the soil gives without asking anything, save I respect life. My tasks are for the earth, for love. Do battle the least with love that I might breathe life and eternally. End over end, back to the beginning, the perfect cycle of life …and rebirth and life and rebirth and life and rebirth until I see them as equal partners in creation’s outcome. It’s not mine to say, beginning to never-end…
Echo…
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Laughter pierces my lips…
The stars, my entertainment,the water my drink, love my truth, the sun, and stars and planets and moons and mountains and seas and caverns and caves and celestial dust and the Milky Way, the grandfather. The soil, and all that rises from it evolving life is the grandmother. The two betrothed are love and life. Union. Kinship. Oath. Action. Belief. Truth.
We need find our footing, let the earth dance in the soles of our feet, rise to our flush temples and whisper love in one ear and remind us of where we are in the other. It’s the perfect marriage, love and home.
Love if you've Love in you. Love if you cannot imagine it. Love before the whole of creation looks back and fails to find even one affection…
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Belief came sidling up to my arms and spread them wide and love exhaled in me, new born, purposed, prepared to face my own brand of music. The bow moved me over the strings, I played on them with an odd delivery, spoke them with full love and danced to my great fortune...
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The darkness surrounds me, it sounds stunned, it looks distressed, the willow sways with grandmother hips. She moves beyond the gate and waits on our heavenly return.
The guitar cuts the silence in half and wraps its strike against the pulse of flesh and bone, run along now and get busy, love…
© 2012 by mark prime