CONFESSION ZERO

This is not Armageddon. This is Heaven returning to our consciousness… Creation, Love. She, with her gravity, is like a mother’s arms around a wayward child, and, if she must, she’ll sling her wrath when they become murderers. Her wake-up call, long overdue, fell upon them, silence. Fell upon them, silence. Fell upon them… She pleads we reconsider. She prays we unlock the gateway from ourselves back to Love. Sight is to behold like behold is to see. © 2011 by mark prime

Where we are is all we can know, all we should know and all we need know. Who we are comes along with what we are to where we are. We must remember, recall our kinship before the act concludes. Our dreams are the gauge to our knowing and our waking dreams deliver their sweet reverie to this reception with joy. And to our amazement truth has always been waiting beneath our feet for us to sense her Love, for us to awaken to our great fortune. Awake! It is time to come together as one and occupy the eartH, Home and Heaven, with heart-signs that read Love, hands that hold her dear like we hold our precious children, arms that reach out like machines of affection and legs in urgent motion toward her care. Where did we imagine we were? Where do we imagine we are? Who did we imagine ourselves to be? Who do we imagine ourselves to be? What did we imagine we were here for, thievery, rape and war? What do we imagine we are here for? Oh! The gravest fault lies in our lack of loving ima...

What Was That You Said? How can I say no to her? She’s been waiting so long for someone to speak, she’s been chained and bound, she’ been red and found, but not by man, she is his birthplace, he cannot escape! She’s Mother, Grandmother, Great Grandmother, Love. We are not what we were only a moment ago. We’re aloft, afloat toward our fear and not our memory. From our fear and not our memory come our sins. Fear cannot be memorized or drained through the fibers of man’s flesh. Beneath the sadness she’s been writhing. She’s been turning corners hoping the light stays green. Oh, my Love. I am here. Don’t cry. Your children are dying. Music skipped from the quake, what was that you said? Your children are dying. I thought that’s what you said. Yet you’d rather not cry? You’d rather make light and have been for nothing? There are no winners when everyone’s running for their lives. The game’s rigged. Heaven, where we stand, our feet, without direction, wander with the win...

I found Love beneath my feet. I dreamed I stood upon her neck and she was wheezing from my footprint, my thanklessness, my pride swollen, my desire to own her. I found Love beneath my feet. She asks that we end our parade of her, our pageant that mocks her grandeur, her love, her authority- The shocks went down my neck, they sent their waves into my belief. It floated freely for what seemed like days, it sent me earthward and greeted me with kisses, then slammed me down! She unpainted my portrait and woke me up to say, I love you. I love you. I love you. Love chants her will in the wind, her desire washing up on the shores, her love serenading us with Her Majesty. I found Love beneath my feet. Go, tell your sons and daughters to look beneath them, then bow. © 2011 by mark prime

I wouldn’t stop even if I could. I stop now and there’ll be hell to pay. She started whispering to me her scream as she hoped the answer would be seen. Who am I? Where did I go? Am I really in heaven disguised as hell? It is sweetest when everyone comes to the dance. ~ Love is not to be divided as in shares, it is to run headlong into each and everything upon her. She is heavenly, mother, grandmother and great grandmother. ~ And so to be them in my song, the whole of life undulates with all things, the clip of a rapid-fire fiddle to the cello’s measured breathing, sorrow to sudden delight of lungs unaccustomed to such pleasures. Oh, violin! Won’t you weep more for joy? Weep more for desires, greed, and laughter, leaving you out in the cold to laugh last? ~ Still a child inside to be forgiven, so play your chords to the ferryman, cry your eyes in her embrace evermore, forgive. Still, a child, quick, begin your tap, tap, tap, tapping and forget not to weep and weep and...

She needs me to return to knowledge, return to a loving word, a humanless heaven, a paradise bending with the rose. All across the globe, flowers are in bloom, watch them march, watch them come with love, arms out, so brothers and sisters can fall into and move with the spirit within them. © 2011 by mark prime

The day before…Boomed the silence…The day before…Boomed the silence... Can anything be said that has not been before, when we imagined our souls came into being? Club the beast, then come to, and then drink some water, and you may be able to recall your journey. Your gangling limbs can’t hold such knowledge, won’t sustain such damage, can’t herself be killed, she goes and breaks an axis and disintegrates to hell, we had better be ready for Love to come calling. “Who do you think you know? Love? No. If your god knew Love, he’d look down upon her beauty and see, finally see, after too many damned years, too damned many!" I was supposed to be this child. Who else could I have been, but this child? My scars are not me. My past is not me. My belief, my truth, my Love, all wrapped up tight and shipped via voice, special delivery, you’ve been served! Don’t imagine you need a lift, because I’m going that way? Hop in! Where you headed? The old man winked at the child to say I love...