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Wouldn’t a Loving Peace and a Peaceful Love Serve Creation


The midnight sky behind the stars went on forever, an eternal dream of mine, my never-ending reverie, my trance of evermore, my dance with destiny, more our dance, yours and mine, mine and yours, with a most willing spirit, the breath of Love.

The one star looking back at me brought me to wonder, might we live forever with death becoming a new life to relive again and again and again until our beliefs center around the things we know?

The (H)eartH of Love calls out with Creation’s thrumming beat, begging I give up belief ..and bring my eyes down opened wide and begin to feverishly pray that I’ve still time to end the attempted murder of Life, restore the Life I’ve drained from Love‘s precious Heart(H), return the Love I’ve claimed in blood. The tragedy’s a manifest destiny woven of fear, eternal instead of Love’s echo, her never-ending return to Love held in the spirit’s hands that tell me life will come again and again and again and again and again and I will be exactly where my belief takes me, good and/or bad.

Wouldn’t a loving peace and a peaceful love serve Creation? Wouldn’t a search for kings and miracles be better served if I looked beneath my feet, to the Home upon which all of breath breathes, all of Love loves and all of Life lives until…

I believe that all I know is all there is to know, but might there be more? Where I am, who I am and what I am? Let me turn my sights to that which gives without asking for anything in return, to that which is life’s sustenance, its beholden, the mother, the Heart(H) of Creation.

(Remember this, steward of love and home.)

If belief doesn’t always remind me of where I am, then what good will it be when my beholden begins to heal? I must begin to realize where I am before The Mother sways her hips and split’s the dance floor with her quake, before The Father strikes his radiance across the flesh and reveals the bloodletting of the sacred spirit, before the train whistle goes unnoted and my thankless existence gets erased from the songbook of Love.


© 2012 by mark richard prime

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