CONFESSION ZERO

To all my fellow brothers and sisters I offer nothing less than my love And to my Home I offer the sturdiest of my belief That which counts before another’s truth that I can’t see Headed for goodness, the one exactness Whatever it may or may not be, it's trackless Not for me to imagine in the least Since I cannot know, I’d be wrong, see So I am trying my best at just being Me More should try themselves on for size At what they find they might be surprised O, Let it go Let of what you cannot possibly know Come along before it’s too late Might as well be Love beats the hell out of hate Boom boom Dance and sing the heart’s satisfaction Dance beneath the sky Laugh with a child’s reaction Remember three words "I Love You" No need to cry my brother, my sister Only need rejoice in Home In kinship to one another, father and mother Life rising up to greet us with a kiss on the cheek Inheriting the (H)eartH, it’s not just for the meek It’s for those who

If we considered the thought that we're all the sons and daughters of God, Creation, we might then see that we've all been asked to sacrifice for the good of the (H)eartH, and, shortly following that realization, begin to gather as a tribe of one and fix what we as the collective have done to Home and one another... Just a thought. Peace © 2013 the spirit of Love dancing through Mark Richard Prime

Sitting among the stones, a place where they cried. The native stone, tongues speaking to me. They weep still. Weep for what was done, lashed by cruelty, tears flowing like the stream. I am so sorry my sisters and brothers, children of God. I weep for your suffering, I weep. I weep for your spirit still roaming these lands. I weep for your children's children removed from such beauty by greedy hands. Love starved by ravenous want, stomachs empty, hands pleading with the elements, feet stepping through the mist, through the water made deeper by your sorrowful prayer. Your path now ours, some still grinning their gold teeth, still ravaging the truth for money, a foul sport of kings and queens bent on conquering what cannot be overthrown. No more, says the birdsong. Move along home now, whispers the babbling brook. Go back, urges the wind. Return now to your Home, pleads the sky. Love and breathe, speaks the soil, the rock and water. Go back, begs the stream