CONFESSION ZERO

I believe the truth exists in a frame, or so this mortal mind instructs me. The truth is eternal, for what else could it be, limited or limitless, narrow or endlessly wide? (Exactness evermore.) Indeed the mystery is beyond my flesh and blood, likely in a spiritual reality that takes the breath away and replaces it with the loving spirit until the curtain drops on this immortal story. (It never ends?) I doubt it, I don’t actually know, as I’ve mentioned a time or two. Maybe it goes on forever for some and eversleep falls over the rest. No suffering, none in the after-death, the soil that gives back freely asking nothing in return. The meek shall inherit the living soil and return as a rose or an oak or a river or a plant, the possibilities are infinite, one life after another, without thought, without suffering, without pain, without memory, save for the spirits of the eartH of God and Love and Life everlasting… (Might there be more?) More? How could there be more than e...

There are three things. No. There is but one. Truth. (Why not three?) There can be but one exactness to explain all of this. (But what did you mean by three?) It was a mistake. (Then why did you leave it in?) It was done. I thought it best to seek it further after some time had passed. (You are an enigma, my child.) No. You’re the enigma. (Me?) Absolutely. Anyone will tell you that your mystery far surpasses anything this mere mortal has ever had to offer. (Good point.) I just might be dreadfully wrong. I mean who am I to say that I’m not insane? (You’re the only one. Words jump from your fingers as if they’re escaping your uncertainty. It’s not rocket science, Mark.) I know. It’s eartH science. (Good of you to have remembered.) She is my Love. I will not forsake her. My original vow in the spirit and the first promise I remembered to keep in the flesh are the two I hold above all else, the eartH of Love and my Love on the eartH. (Well said!) I’d th...

( Sensible Bakwas - Entwined Love ) Is there such a thing as fearless Love anymore or has it fallen to fearful war? Creation is fearlessly waiting on the consciousness, on an awareness that the (H)eartH is sacred. I mustn’t keep her waiting one moment longer. She begs that I remove all fear and end my noise that I might recognize Home… Let me worship within Love’s Heart(H), Heavenly Home. Let me praise her flesh that she might give birth to the seed of life, take in her untainted air that she might breathe in mine evermore. I pray my belief is chosen from out of the many, for my belief is formed from the many… Is there really need for a battle of beliefs? Is there need for me to imagine Heaven if I’m unable to recognize Home…? The one truth, (insert name here), is unknowable. It is reckless thinking, careless belief that has led to imagining an end to Life in order that the Spirit might live forever. It is eternal already, my beliefs are secondary to Love… (Life is Go...

( Epilogue ) The owl began his low note and it captured my attention with its claim to me, beseeching that I heed the eartH’s cry that she might then unveil her full and heavenly Love. Oh! Let me seek her voice always so as to breathe in me evermore! Cry, O river! Cry that we and thee might breathe together without the ode of suffocation, but that we might, instead, liberate this eternal Life! O cry, soil, rock and tree! Cry for Love’s majesty! Cry, over the eartH, God’s Creation! Cry! Each and every nation, cry out loud! Bring the roof of your worship down to join the floor! No more this madness let slip into the living’s midnight! Let her go! Take your paws off of her throat and kindly lift her wings that she might float! (And a good morning to you, too, scribe!) Thank you loving spirit… (There go the dogs and their shrill laughter, their obedient lessons for you to learn, Mark Richard Prime.) Yes. My daily devotion with its cacophony of loving sounds, the tong...

“Every truth passes through three stages before it is recognized. In the first, it is ridiculed. In the second it is opposed. In the third, it is regarded as self evident.” __Arthur Schopenhauer Why did I arrive here? (The will of Creation.) Why did I journey to such depths, to such utter destruction of Love? (The human will.) Shame on me… Why does my rage still bludgeon the progress of my belief? Could it be that the abuse of Heaven is often too much for me to witness? Might it be that I’ve begun my dance with Love and she leads me before the truth like a shaman, one step at a time, and with her gaze upon my actions reflected against my worship? Am I too ashamed to admit I’ve not been the best man for the job? I did not understand my own limitations. I still deny them their breath. They may desire another, but this is the man they got, Mark Richard Prime, and all I’ve sought in my belief is the opposite of the man I had allowed myself to become. I sought Love with my ...

It’s after eleven and the morning bird becomes the night, she and he call to one another, waiting upon the reassuring echo of Love… The single pipe of the frog at once chases away the sounds and swings in its reverie to greet love and her attending angels… Heaven’s not just a metaphor for eternity, it’s a place, a place that calls to us from just beneath our feet. It sings that I might garner and replenish her gift, that she may then give back tenfold. Heaven pleads my attention like a child whose strayed from comfort, a baby feeding off the mercies of the Mother. She begs I listen to her midnight counsel, the bird and insect and air slipping by my ear. A frog and a cricket walk into a bar… And? And nothing. A frog and a cricket walk into a bar? That doesn’t even make sense. Made sense to the frog and the cricket… *~* The night sounds again breathe these words as I sit here amazed that my neighbors are up to no good. Something’s missing? Summon it all, Mark Richard...

( Earth, Sky and Water ) I chose them as my angels, unbeknownst to even me. They heard me and my wavering speech, heard my rumble and felt the doddering gait of my visions of Love… They are my friends, despite my composer of fear having me follow its tune as I began to surge my voice to the masses without any hesitation, I feared their role in the thickening plot, following along with great intrigue at the outcome I could not possibly know. If knowing was out of the question, I was left with only belief, which I do, my believing is beyond the shadow of any doubt. Real to me makes it real. Real to you, makes it real. See where belief can take me without my even realizing it? Without belief… there is only truth, and truth is all I’ve ever desired. I searched for so long, I scoured the consciousness and believed what I could not know and knew not what I imagined… The eartH of Creation is ours to shape as we see fit. Our beliefs are only sacrosanct after they’ve traveled past th...