8.17.12 I am Born to be Love

It’s where you are that matters most, not what you’re surrounded by…

Let’s not begin to imagine that even these words that pour out of me for any number of reasons is truth, because like I’ve been trying to point out, that is what’s happening to me, isn’t as pleasant as one might imagine, it’s painful paying for your sins before you can speak the word of God. I’d such a long way to travel.

I am born to be Love, like we all are, but my head was flipped upside-down and I was drowning of fear, so it’s taken me way too long to get back to the surface of Love and scribe for her this ode…

(But you hadn’t the consent of all!)

I needn’t ask for the spirit of Love, it runs full stream through us all if we’ll but engage it, the spirit of Love is separate from our fear.

It remains eternal, does Love.

Life’s in mid-flight when it’s at its beginning, in the middle and here until Creation decides it’s time to dance.

(What about the ending?)

There isn’t one, unless you choose to eversleep away from all of the noise, in the loving soil.

(She’s got us by quantity…)

I believe that what the child hears from we adults is held in the spirit, both the spirit of the child and of God, for they are one. Until we pass away this lifetime and soar to the unknown, eartHly blue yonder. Who knows? Why not? I know, I believe, what’s the difference! What is the difference?

(Exactness.)

I’m in the now and the now we’ve made a rather idiotic and scary place.

(Of course it’s scary, we’re filled with angry spirit at having never known the truth of who we were born to be…)

We’re all Gods by design, unless you don’t consider yourself a child of Creation. We crumble like the thinnest of twigs, too easily bending just before the snap of our rueful reflection…

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

read the poem

SKYFALL

Skyfall... We continue to play along with an unnatural game that has serious consequences, soon we'll find ourselves enslaved without recourse to the system. (Is that true of local charades?) Yes. (Why can't we free ourselves from the system?) The madness of money. (It's not money, it's people, right?) It's both, money and us in tandem, thus assuring money's might and our adherance to its loudness. (Madness...) Indeed. © 2017 Mark Richard Prime

read the poem

THE ROCK HOLDS

The rock holds the soil in and from the soil springs the tree, the green of LIFE rolling from the blue, rising to the occasion of itself. . “Be!”, the (H)eartH declares, “Be what you are!” . (We thought we were!) . (We think we are!) . “You are, but not freely, therefore, only a thought, and a thought without much thinking, as if you were scared into it.”, the (H)eartH added. . [a quietude begins, the truth being heard and heeded, grooving to the flow] ~ © 2017 Mark Richard Prime

read the poem

CONFESSION ZERO

Search This Blog