Creation’s sound.
The loveliest of birds greeted me this morning! They sang their morning warble as if to say all is going along as it should be, as it was meant to be. Their lovely song mesmerized me in dance with the eartH’s spirit swirling in me like October’s oft wintry breeze telling me that death is nothing more and nothing less than life gone beneath itself to the beginning, to Love…
How could it be another way, my friends? How is it possible to have missed such a beautiful truth just beneath the feet? The HeartH of Creation’s song plays most crisp in the morning, it opens its eyes to itself as if it were all new again, as if the noise of life-fouled traffic were a waking dream and the truth was eartH’s sounds arising to greet itself and its sun…
Love, you’ve been waiting for the day our noise won’t place itself upon the throne and bequeath this land as if to we and not, instead, for thee! O! Please forgive me my indifference! I am so sorry.
Leave the motor running, the tune of destruction. The eartH’s engine suffers our noise. It suffers our use, our grave wind curing. Where is the eartH in all of this? Voiceless? We all know that the eartH can speak her morning song without our say, without our petty influence, and we also know that if we sing with the eartH, beauty might eternally arise before us with the melody to match our great joy…
Who decided that song was defined as a noise? It’s a sound if there ever was one. Rejoice that our singing and our lovely art is our sound. Rejoice that our sound, humankinds, holds the key to our own salvation. Rejoice! Sing that Creation is everything’s all. Sing a song of merriment to Creation, whatever it might be for thee. …I highly recommend love.
(Silence…)
© 2012 the spirit of Love dancing through Mark Richard Prime
Comments
Post a Comment