CONFESSION ZERO

The sun remained still, it was I who crafted a path for spirit to flow outward, life to flow inward, remain, and hold fast her delicious concoction of dream. Why have I taken up the dream and soured its indelible wish? Who has given me permission to crash my fetid thoughts into Heaven? What must I imagine it is for me to set her Love free that she might dance joyfully beneath the breathing sun? When will my alarms finally awaken my child and send it out in search of my better self? Tomorrow? Tomorrow’s tomorrow? Tomorrow’s broken line of tomorrow’s, with my hands outstretched begging for another chance at tomorrow? The line is bereft with my soiled smiles that haven’t given their joy over to themselves, I still hold the documentation of my enslavement, the shackles that cut into the skin of my hope are like steady reminders to rise with the sun and do the work of the thankless Man, capital “M” man, not the idleness of the diminutive, small “m” man. No. The courage fou...

ANCIENT IMAGES OF A MOTHER GIVING BIRTH FOUND The water poured forth and the child was born. She summoned her spirit that she might sooth my heartache with the birth of Love. I did dance for this news and she lapped at the shores with her gladness, her child having heard the call. The wind began to dance along the valley. I did then begin to solemnly lift the spirits summoned by the tree's percussion, the mountain's thrum, the flower's weeping to the season’s air and the spectacular formation of spirit's dancing their Love without division to the warless symphony. May she be a loving child… © 2011 by mark prime

I am given this life, given this laughter, given Love, without payment due, without fear of its origin. Love is the one seed. Love says that life and laughter are free, they cannot be bought or sold like a gravestone to mark my corporeal rest. They cannot be bartered for, save for what must be returned in kind in order for Love to greet me with its kiss. I am given this life, given this dance without partner, it is up to me to go forth and ask another to take my hand, and then another, and another, and another, and another… without end. It is not up to me to say when Love concludes, when life and laughter end. It is only Love's to say, not me. It is Love that is the mechanism for my existing at all. It, by all intents and purpose, is the only Love I know. The only worship I’ll ever know in the flesh. Love needn’t a book to invoke its song. Love needn’t a doctrine to summon its dance. Love needn’t a war to call forth its peace. Hate divided by hate equals doom... Hate ...

(Artwork by Abel Tomlinson ) When the embers began to glow I joined in, motionless, I danced with another, yet it was the spirit's collective dreams that brought me to the one. I didn’t choose the path that carried me here today, I couldn’t, I had no idea I’d show up to this ballet. I just moved with the current of one, the spirit’s affections, their hope, and with diverse belief, the where, of where I was destined, was not in my control. I didn't try to steer the ship, there was no okay from me to go, the opposite of being rudderless, because it’s precisely how this beautiful world flows. Love, won’t you please take my hand, a peaceful hand which needn't extend from me alone? My hands and arms are clasped, ready to dance this quest that is shaped from hope? Yes! Hope is alive and well on these streets today! Oh! Dance dear spirit! Dance! This moment must go on forever. I might stumble, but I shouldn’t fail this, my chance! Freedom’s calling out to...

There’s a rumble in the streets that sounds like distant thunder. Do not fear it, for it is a natural sound, not my kind’s fouled noise. It is Love, the triumph over self,  Love’s art bringing me back to my beginning. It is not a tale of woe and murder, it is a drama that’s been waiting in the wings for Love’s triumphant cue to summon me forth! It’s the thunder of Love rolling joyously across the globe. I’ve listened to fear long enough. I’m tired of my weeping, exhausted of pulling out my hair and gnashing my teeth, exhausted of my dreams being written as tall tales instead of one great towering truth. I’ve begun to sense the reckoning within myself, the longing to remove the foul noise I’ve planted within which has pierced Love and turned me in on myself. I’ll need steady hands and head to remove the clamor that’s lodged deep inside, that’s flouting my reason, that’s bringing me to fear another, causing me to destroy goodness, leaving me afraid of Love. I am one...

I wept at her grace, smiled upon her face and have been humbled in my place. The woman, Amelia, was once a child, a cherub who blossomed into an angel. Her story is one that should be known to all who walk the path toward their belief, she’ll guide the ego away from self and reveal to you what truly matters. For me it is not the pliant flesh that reaches out with loving arms, it is the dance of the spirit. It is the love contained within me that moves the soul to sing, to dance and laugh inside the cathedral of man. I dance with her, dance with her spirit and I'm dancing with the love of all of the spirits that she has herself danced with. Dance! Laugh! Love, and I’ll find I’ve been blessed by creation. Her strength is awe inspiring and without love she’d have left me to myself long ago. But I have begun to show her that my dreams are ready for her Love, ready for her truth to emerge within my being, to take my hands and lead me away from the battle within and usher in a...

(Picture From Evil On Two Legs ) All I see are desperate faces, eyes without dreams, minds without compassion and hands without Love, scraping their filth over creation. My own eyes are wet from this misuse. No consideration and without reflection, I've bowed my head, not in prayer, but with such monstrous shame. I see this, my madness, as most tragic, the Love on which my flesh is riding is the only Heaven I know. I find it hard to stomach the cruelty being raked across creation with my own likeness being reflected. Wash it away! It’s too monstrous! Wash it all away from the thankless path! The children are dreading the monster that comes from under their beds that have mommy and daddy’s terrified within their thankless faces. They sense hopeless postures when they look into the empty eyes come screaming, dead hands stroking their worried brows, greedy lips kissing their regret. I see this madness as most tragic, the Love on which my flesh is riding is the only Heaven ...