Disclaimer: This article is for educational & entertainment purposes only.
It is all about self-control. She is careful. She is vigilant when crossing the realms of magic. Emotional surgeries of light she performs under the moon and above the stars. And neuroplasticity is activated when the love and mystery of our inner nature is revealed. Her body is the earth when she realizes the magnificent drop of light that she is. And water is her blood when she awakens out of the ilusion. And her breath is the air while fire is indeed her lingering spirit. Yarere, yarere…Energetic vibrational consciousness she is…
…She is the urban healer and dogmas she no longer perceives in existence for she knows how to access the magnetic fields of information. Caiarere, caiarere… she has always been the mother of the sacred entheogenic experiences for she is a cardiovascular-soul-cognitive liberator. She is a walking ray of energetic waters. She is connected to the void, to the conscious tree of life… through the electrical flow of her neural impulses. The activation of solar consciousness is just the beginning for what is yet to come out of her heart. And though she is an emotion, her traumas, pains, apathy, and anxieties do not define who she truly is for she is a miracle of love and wisdom in the heart of the universe dressed in organic tissue.
…Glitter. Neon lights. Turritopsis-ravens-salamanders of my heart… bring the skylight to our hearts. And there he is…dancing inside the pyramid of blue lights. The mic drops, and the cleansing of the night begins. Precious metals in the sky. He dances like spirals of rays… circles in the sky. He dances in the night of the stars, yellow glitter, sparkles, twinkles we see from afar. The fire-disco is dancing in the sky. He dances and glitter is falling from the shining sky. Quetzalcoatl, Quetzalcoatl and green feathers falling from the sky. Quetzalcoatl, Quetzalcoatl and purple crystals waters forming in the sky. Circle, fires, circles fires in the sky…waters falling from the sky. Rainbow lights… he dances among the falling glitters of the light. Rainbow lights and swirls in the dark…Neon lights and feathers birthing from the sky…
…And in the depths of the universe there is a dumpster where the spooky shadow people live. It is a sinister place where spooky spirits linger and holes of light she can see through their silhouettes. They are old brownish rags of rays floating within the vacuum of space. They are the same plastic conjurers that constantly hunt her in her dreams. She has yet to let them go, but first she must let them free from their hate and malignancy. They are flesh memories in her mind. She misses them. She hates them. She loves them. Her mind is a wild paradox…
…And she went and searched the universe for an ancient healing pot. She found it and brought it home. And in the middle of the night she would hear chants and evil voices coming from the clay pot. She hears voices from the pot. Ancient magic from the past… she brought bad juju to her life.
… And there she was frantically running in the middle of the night. The rain had stopped, and she could smell the wet soil. There were no trees. No people. No light. It was dark and from afar she could hear a never-coming train approaching. No people… only evil laughs and swirly tracks. No people only dark prayers and curses in the darkness of the night. No stars. No moon and only meteors falling from the sky. They were hunting her. The spooky shadow people were after her gift. She is a portal keeper. She is a portal keeper, and the magical butterfly that sends the living death to the realm of the beyond. She has traveled the universe and has seen it all. They were cursing her in the name of blood and fire until the solar serpent bit her thigh and she woke up from the evil curse of the ancient pot. Her dreams are real. There are no boundaries between reality and her dreams. She is always awake even when she sleeps. She did not know where the solar serpent came from. She was running from the meteors falling from above and the crazy evil laughs. They are always luring her. The spooky shadow people are always trying to escape through her. They wait and wait in the obscurity of the universe until it is time to birth. The serpent women of Ayaland have no control of the souls they birth. The tribe prays under the moon. The tribe sings under the moon. I hear the drumming. I hear the voices of my family in the wind. And so the tribe of the serpent worship the elements and cultivate the environment so cherubs may be born and demons may be gone.
And there she was erupting like a water-volcano. Water-lava in the air she jumps and falls. She is the fountain of creativity, and it is her transparency what lures the spooky shadow people to the fountain of creation. Nobody appreciates her magic. The shadows come and dip their fingers in her translucent waters thinking they will become like her, but little do they know that the frog of the waters is always watching. Her hair is translucent. And she knows when they approach her with a dark heart for she smells their rotten soul. She scans them and knows their true intentions. The spooky shadow people come and dip their ugly feet in her sacred waters and their spookiness vanishes. Some stay close to her with flowers and admiration while others come and run and never come back. She is not ugly. Ugly is the morbid heart of those who ignore her beauty and gentleness and sensitivity. The red moon was bright, and there he was laying on a beach… absorbing the rays of the super red blood moon under the sky. He could only hear the waves crashing on the shore while she was fighting for her life. He was not aware for he had no idea of her whereabouts. There were no mechanical noises… only the whispers of the primordial waters and the rays of the moon caressing and filling his heart, body, mind, and spirit with imagination.
…Blue and silver glimmering lights and crystals all around. And there she is dancing like a maniac… like a disco ball… in the obscurity of the universe among the vivid green sacred geometry of the void. She is a DJ of the soul and a part of her innocence she has recovered. And with her hands she creates mudras. In and out of existence… in and out of existence…in and out of existence…she dances non-stop. She has recovered her heart and green feathers are falling from the sky. Her body is a grid of light, and with her hands she opens portals. She dances in the darkness of the night and with her hands she opens portals and dimensions and creatures jump out from the darkness. Her energy is back, and she feels the rays of the sun burning through her veins. She is a raver. She is a raven. She is a raver. She is a raven. Blue lights you can see and green lights you can taste. She gets lost in the music and what she creates is total beauty. She opens hearts with her melodies. She is a raven and with the shimmering lights she merges. She is a giant crow and with her feathers she cleanses the souls of the void. She escapes. She escapes from the darkness and in her feathers she carries the torch of life. And it is her music and her voice and the atmosphere that she has created what truly hacks the default mode network of the body where the memories and the emotions of her creatures are stored. She hacks the default mode network and emotional surgeries she performs under the super red blood moon. She cleanses perceptions with her feathers. She sees her creatures and feels sorry for the barbed wire on their feet. Ancient cultural toys they see in alternative realities and the longer they stare at the toys, the deeper the journey of the inner child gets. “Heal. Heal. Heal your inner child and you shall be free from the wheel of suffering,” she whispers to the dance of the fire. But she is only self-reflection. She is no magic potion. She moves…she shakes floors so that we may become self-aware of the solar-epic-fertile sea of life that we are.
She is the bio-mother-hacker of life. She calls the future bio-hackers in her dreams. She dreams to awaken the elementals of the earth. She calls for the kind-hearted spirits to come out of the volcanoes, boulder rocks, and the rivers, and the lakes. She has unlocked the web of reality and she has managed to speak to the boulder rocks. She opens the doors and the windows of her house and she whispers: Mi Casa Es Su Casa. She encourages us to alchemically transform our personal and collective code from the void to the virtual biological reality so we may see through the psychological conditioning of the Whore of Babylon, the one devious usurper. Don’t hide anymore. Don’t hide anymore ethereal creatures of the beyond. Mi Casa Es Su Casa. We are those that we are wishing to create. The magical creatures are among us. We are those that have already been created in the name of progress. We are those that we are wishing to be. She still remembers the innocence of her teenager years. She was naïve but she has grown. All she wants to do is sing to the world and with her drum she wishes to reach and bring back the moon and the stars of the city where men and women become Gods and Goddesses. Innocence, water, sky… you never let me become the eyes of your heart and today I am glad. I have made peace with my past. Innocence, water, sky…I will always miss the coco-scent of your blue eyes.
And in the rain forests you would find the ancient singing conchs of the soil. They would sing and the bio-hackers would arise from the land of the death. Barriers blurred. Boundaries are no longer existent. Reality. Magic. Multidimensional beings. Poltergeist and Cursed lands across the oceanic turtle of the sky. Portals and music flying in the air. Dimensions. Black holes. Disrespects she senses from an unforgettable and painful past. She creates them all. Portals open and her creatures jump out…
She learns the mysteries of the arts through the lenses of science and she learns to take control of her biology and psychology before the unscrupulous energy-sucking spooky shadow people of the Whore of Babylon sell this tech to future tribes. Bio-hacking of her body, mind, and spirit is the next personal technology that nobody…nobody can sell her. She is a true scientist of the arts and with her body, mind, and spirit she experiments, and she informs, and she educates society of her fabulous findings. Everything exists inside her, and it is through the arts that she gives birth to what she truly is: a cosmic expressionist of infinite possibilities.
It is in her where the purest technology of the earth inhabits her heart. It is through her that even the idea of “greater technology” even exists for the is the mother of tongues. She has always been the mother of disruptive illumination. He is birthed into a world with a collective language of his ancestors, and it is his language what allows him to label himself and his experiences. He is nothing but a loca emotion in motion. He is born into a world of categorization and when he awakens, he questions the inner web of reality and what it means to hack the body, mind, and spirit… and the voracious future that is forming in the depths of the void hungry for more autonomic power. He is free. He has always been free for he is the golden mana of the rain forests that feed the creativity of the bio-mother hacker. She has always known that art is and will always be the language of the universe… and science the tool that allows him to organize the indescribable splendor of what he truly is.
She is sacred geometry all around. She is not an island. She is the mother-hacker of the universe and we are nothing but a virus while she is the code of life. His privacy is at stake. Her privacy is in danger… in the plastic capitalistic surveillance world of the physical reality where their heart live. Everything is being recorded. The spooky shadow people have part of the book of our lives. They see me and see money. They see you and see profits. They see us and see numbers… but we are more than that. We are infinity. I am the mother of life. I am the birther of rights. She brings the medicines of the serpents and the medicines of the toads and the medicines of the sacred plants to her tribe. She is a shooting star. She is a star in the midst of a storm. And though I forget who I am in the crazy, monotomous robotic wheel of life: I am light. I am shadow.
I see the reflections of the light in the waters. I am a bird caught in the turbulent awe of a giant wave of light. Saltwater, sand, feathers, and seashells I have in my hands. Salt, water, feathers, sun, sky, and the force of the mysterious ocean come at me like a lion on a gladiator jumping in the air. She could feel his happiness in the way he moved in the waters of the primordial ocean of life. In the water he feels free. In the waters his deep physical, mental, and emotional pains go away and the waves of the oceans bring back the smile of his inner child. His eyes glimmer in the deep blue waters of the coast of my beloved turtle land. The healing of the soul comes from the scents of the earth. The powerful healing of emotions comes directly from the depths of nature. It is through the rattling and the drumming of my ethnic instruments how she bring the magical force of the rain forests to the abysm of my heart. And it is in the waters of the stars where her naked beauty is unveiled. She brings happiness and healing to the Age of the Vain. She is simple and she is not afraid of her curves. She exposes her nakedness to the world, and she is not ashamed. She lifts her chin and becomes one with the veil of illusion. She is now in the fabric of space, in the heart of the void, in the heart of the universe. “You are never too young or too old to discover the magic within. Hope is vision. Vision is hope,” she whispers to the tribe. Immortality lies in joyfully immersing oneself in total independence of the moment. It is all about creating the harmonious atmosphere for healing with the help of the plants, the icaros, and the silence of the present. Create the healing atmosphere around you with ardor and devotion and you shall recover information from the electromagnetic field of information, from the biological book of life. Be the weaver of your destiny. She time travels in her head for she is the greatest technology and out of thunder she is born.
She has seen it all. Machines are coming. All she sees is an orange sky. All she sees is a desolated beach and from afar she sees machines coming. In meditation she walks within the boiling waters of what once was a sea of life. Smoke in the air. Smoke in the air and large rocks far away. Lonely she is walking in the boiling waters where she once came out. Sadness she feels. No birds. No sounds. Only an orange sky. And fire she sees. A quick flash of her escaping in a car she sees and fire balls in the sky. And strong he is in what could be a possible reality should the HUBRIS not stop. It always starts the same. From far away she sees the exploding light and the place where she is changes. And the busy sky is what shocks her heart. And the busy sky is what shocks her heart…
“Spirited technology is vital for the next stage of life,” she tells the lion-man of the red moon. “Slow down your world. Slow down your world. Let’s enjoy the journey and not the destination. Let’s enjoy our company and in the name of love lets heal the hearts that have been deceived and the eyes of the minds that have been blinded. To live is to laugh in the moment of the crazy emotions that we are. Spirited technology. Earth-based healing technologies are needed once again in the spectrum of life. Be patience,” she whispers. Use your hands. Use your hands, and let your hands become the tetrahedral of your heart. Use your hands, use your hands and let your hands become the crown of nature’s heart. And he would connect to the tetrahedral of the mind of the void with his breath, soul, and heart. Here are the lyrics and now let your heart find the rhythm to awaken the stones.
Oh, sentient, solar forest of life
Water, soil, solar stone- you are
Coral, sea, earth, & sky
Water, fire, solar rock- you are
Coral, ether, dust, & glow
Water moon, solar stone- you are
Water, soil, air- I am
Sound, space, & sparks- You are
Water, soil- sacred sol I am
Water, soil, breath- you are
Solar ancient-fertile-soil I am!
“Don’t leave me in the cliffs of the sun. Be considerate and my heart and soul you shall have,” he tells her in her ear.” And under the moon he would recite her enchanted lyrics and with his tetrahedron he would sing and the stones would listen. He never revealed the rhythm. That was a mystery. He worked in the silence of the night and the stones became softer. The stones became alive. He would sing and dance, and the stones would become lighter, and lighter. He was building his conscious garden in the name of Venus. His hand became the sound of the universe and the flute of his hands he would use to whistle through the tetrahedron. And it was during his trance where he saw the pink conchs singing during the creation of the primordial waters. It was them…the pink conchs of the primordial waters who gifted her choral intonation. And ancient sigils he would create with his beautiful hands and realities he would transmute. He would whisper through the tetrahedron and the stones would move. His willpower got stronger. His creativity heightened and nature became his muse. He would draw the power of nature and in his writing, he would give birth to his magic. He would write his visions with gold ink from the mana of the forests. And the numbers became his allies and the spirit of the stones would detach. He was a funny looking philosophical entertainer of the arts. In his hands he could see the woman of the owls, la Ticuiricha, her muse. He would call her for wisdom. It was she who had give him the keys to the spiritual world. How cane he forget about her. She had become the shadow of his existence. She had become his ally, his walking tree, his troll plant. She was the mother of the crows and around her crows would fly. She believed in his honey-hazel eyes. She believed in the creation of the Sacred Grey Eye of the Desert. She painted in the dark of the cave of the cliffs of the canyons and in the day the brilliant rays of the sun would give life to her solar creatures. She lived over a thousand years in silence with no words for she had no mouth. She was a crow woman from the southwest. And on the edges of the canyons she would hang her wrongdoers and the rays of the sun would turn them into dried prunes. She was primitive when she had to be. The solar imagery was her language. 2 circles of land and 3 circles of water she would paint on the walls of the caves. She dreamt of the marvelous city of Atlantis and with her words she brought back the spirit of the electric waters to the desert of the new world.
She changes thoughts, feelings, and behaviors when she dances… when she writes… when she paints… and when she researches the wonders of life. She is a descendant of the dancing, fertile virus powered by greed and ignorance. The shadows have called it hysteria. Other have called it drama but life is nothing but a cosmic show. The same dance that made the people dance to death in the medieval times is back again. They danced into delirium and in their delirium, they found the dimensions and polarity of their inner being, and the answers to their wounds. Mood disorders and psychological issues evolve partly from living in a world driven by ignorance and for the disconnection and total annihilation and desecration of the soil in which we stand. Witches they called them. Witches they called them, but it was all a farce to afflict and to divide communities. She had restless nights. The hacking of her dreams would not stop. Anger she felt and in her veins, anyone could see the lava of the inner sun and in her hands, you could see the fires of hell escaping. She did not want the darkness inside of her. She knew she was a molecule of electric water from the stars. She would meditate and drink her magical teas, but the nightmares just would not go away. She would scream like pterodactyls and spiders would come to comfort her in the night. She would scream like pterodactyls and spiders would come to comfort her in the cold of the night. The power that she felt was intense. The power that she felt was destructively creative and creatively destructive. She danced naked under the moon screaming like pterodactyls. She screamed to the winds as a way to release her deep seeded emotions. She danced to the sun on the top of the highest mountain. She called the moon-lion to caress her body and her soul and her interiors. And her flower would be visited by the dew under the stars and she would open like a flower for the sky.
…And then she asked for help and the entire world changed upside down when the cherubs came to protect her. She immersed in gratitude. She thanked the universe, and the immortal jelly fish helped her swim again. And they there were, the turritopsis of the waters bringing her to the surface. She was drowning in her own body. She was drowning in her own contaminated waters, but her heart gave birth to the turritopsis of truth and freedom. Oppression she no longer felt and as hard and as long as it took, she learned a valuable lesson. She learned that to love is to live in the present. To love is to open your heart knowing that you will eventually be hurt but it is all about the self-commitment. It is about knowing that at the end of the journey she is and will always be wise and free. There is no doubt that it takes baby steps to learn the mysteries of own’s heart and to learn to swim in its dimensions and profundities. “There are no short cuts,” she tells him. You must open your heart to see the tree of life for yourself. Don’t quote me for I am ethereal.
…The shadows are after her creative powers and she is after their dying soul— that which cannot be escaped. Let the spooky shadow people of the Whore of Babylon think they are winning. Enemies they are making and drowning in their sorrows is the look of their hypocritical aberration. The power she knows is in the fire of her tribe, and her intelligent allies have seen her noble heart in their deepest nightmares. They think she is revealing secrets when she is only creating what has already been destined to be. Move away impostors. Move away from my path of sky and wonder or I shall wither you away in your sleep. Wake up, wake up, and look in the mirror. You shall see that which is what you have created from yourself: Odium, lust, ire, and dominating power over your birther. The time will come when I will devour you and I will shallow you for purification purposes. And in the soil, they planted their wisdom, and their rocks and metals and woods and their love, and their minerals, and golden dust, and their corals, and their waters. And so the universe of the niños santos was created. And in the soil, they planted their elements, and the ancient trilobites of the waters, and the ashes of the Amazon. Many called them the troll sisters. Sometimes they were shining mermaids… she horses of the seas while other times they were the magical conchs of the dawn of Venus in the forest. They used to sit in the well of the magical waters singing with the owls of the night waiting for their niños to be born. The well looked deep but it was just a simple spell. It was just a curious cave. The blue waters of the well fed the giant tree of life. Nobody knew how many sisters there were. Sometimes you saw two. Sometimes you saw three. Sometimes one. Sometimes you could see the magical well empty but one thing is clear: they never left their niños alone. They were happy. They would sing. They were independent seers of the underworld. Her staff was made of avocado wood. And the masks of the giraffes from the east that she wore was malleable. And the masks of the giraffes from the east that she wore was translucent. The wooden mask she wore allowed her to walk with grace and equilibrium. Her staff reminded the tribe of the earthly, golden Quetzalcoatl from the south. They were so free in the lands that grew legs to move in peace with the winds of the earth. They adapted to their niche. In the spring they were the troll sisters that imbued the well with colorful enchantment. In the winter they were the Nordic witches of the night happily worshipping and playing in the snow with their frozen hairs in the air. In the summer they were singing seahorses. In autumn they worked in silence and the light of the moon they harvested. The light of the moon they harvested to add color to the visions in the waters. They never sleep. They are always awake. Always busy. Always awake. And there they were day and night in the deep caves of the sacred waves of the night. The colorful waters fed the tree of life. And in the waters, they weaved their prophecies. And in the waters, they planted their magic with silver in return for enhancement of the self. The tree grew big and strong but the polarity of life was quite wild. The tree was one and all. Many called them the troll sisters. Others called them the plant ladies. Nobody knows how many there are. Sometimes you can still see two. Sometimes you can still see three. Sometimes one. Sometimes nothing. They are free and in the wind they are one and in the wind they dance. They are the seers of the underworld and the magical well is their portal between the earth and their cozy cave. They weaved ripples of independence. Sometimes they had mouths. Sometimes they didn’t. They loved the birds. They worshipped the crows. They loved the birds and crow feet they had like roadrunners of the desert. Some called them cyclopes. They call themselves the untouchable ones. They are the guardians of nature and the shadows are the monsters that lurk in their forests. And in the darkness the spooky shadow people hunt for the magical flowering of the lotus. And in the darkness the spooky shadow people kill to taste the magic of the uterus of the void. They are one and all but separate they are destructive forces of information— locas emotions of the void without direction— without purpose like electrical serpents without connection in the open and dark space of the vacuum of space. The men called them “Veledas,” while others called the, the plastic witches. “I am your muse, but you need to fly. Find your light,” the seahorses and the troll sisters whisper through their leaves. They carried water. They carried rocks. They were the seers of the ancient world. They carried fire. They carried love. They are the eyes, they are the ears, they are the winds of the void that construct the walls of the whole.
They love to transform into animals and plants and walking trees. They were once fish with glimmering eyes and now they are the fossils and foundations of my heart. They could be anything they imagine. Some evolved and became water serpents. Other grew wings and flew towards the scorching flames of the sun. Nobody knows how many there are, but they are everywhere. She works with the medicines of the heart. She opens the hearts of the stones. She flies towards the sun. She touches the sun… and as she touches the sun… the rays transform her into radiating flesh. She is the medicine of the forests and with the frogs of the night she sings. She hears the humming of the giraffes from afar and she becomes one with their sounds.
And so, she saw the creation of the firsts forests of the light. She spread her giant legs on the planet and birthed the water bears. Marine sediments were abundant. Translucent shells were born from her uterus. And the waters of her belly fed the sacred soil and impregnated the earth with the emotional waters. The waters dominated the world and the moss, and the ferns flourished on the land. And everywhere she looked was green. They called it the age of the waters. They called it the age of the fish that became the first flowers and the first walking trees of the earth. And the airs allowed animals and plants and trees to flourish. You could still see the reddish lands from the eruptions of the giant volcanoes that gave birth to the lands and the deep canyons that were once a deep aquamarine biome of life and aqua auras. Plants evolved and became vascular plants. They adapted. They were once fish and then salamanders and then walking trees and walking flowers. They would dance naked in the summer under the penetrating rays of the sun. And they would harness the rays of the sun. And through their eyes… the rays of the sun fed their emotions. The sun was the medicine of the emotions and within their eyes anyone could see their wisdom and splendor. And as the fungi and the plant kingdom developed emotional intelligence, the more they were able to leave the waters behind. They worked together. They helped each other. And so the net, the microscopic mycelium web of the soil continued to expand towards the macro universe and hugged the planet with love. They would share nutrients with each other, and they would help one another. The stronger they got the further away from the waters they moved. They went into the deep lands with no directions. They were fertile explorers, but it was on earth where they remembered who they were. They were ancient, repressed emotions, and in the movements of the air they became free. And with the sounds of the drumming they would bathe in the eternal waters and would go through the illusion right back to the source. And they were so grateful for the ability to transport water from the ground to the leaves that they worshipped the aboriginal mother of the soil. And as they walked deeper and deeper into the lands of death, they would leave rivers behind. And so the heavens became witnesses of the earth’s ancient creatures with exoskeletons and shimmering eyes. Some went inside the volcanoes and became the solar salamanders of the fire. Other continue their journey on land leaving trails of sacred green geometry behind within the depths of the soil as a nutrient to the water bears. The light of the sun was food. The light of the sun was their warmth and to the rays sun they lost their virginity. They fell in love with the sun and they grew towards the sky. They fell in love with the rays and so they grew and grew and grew towards the skies like spirals in the heart. And they worked together to touch the sun. They worked together to caress the ethereal gasses of the brilliant eye of hope and glory. They all had frog eyes… and the frogs were always present. White and red flowers they would cultivate and in the running springs of the earth is where they learned to open their hearts. It was the frogs in the waters of the moss where the blue lotus grew who first realized who they were. They were repressed emotions and with the fungi they consecrated. And it was the cosmic salamander who learned the magic of the lava and the rocks inside the volcanoes. They were never alone. Microscopic elementals were always there. The water bears were always building and reconstructing the sceneries of the magnificent planet. And it was the water bears who gifted the walking trees and the troll sisters the aqua auras. They were indestructible. They inhabit the deep vents of heat in the waters and in space. They were part bacteria. They were part fungus. They were part plants. They were the guardians of the stones and in their genes they carried the solutions of the future… the foundations of water-earth-like planets. And when it rained in the afternoons you could smell the wonderful scent of wet soil. The stones used to become aqua floras, flowers of the waters and in the rain they would flourish and in the rain they would create aquamarine rainbows in the wind. They became the protective charms of the depths of the waters. They were the first one who witnessed the exploding of the supernovas in the skies and the auroras of the night. They were the first ones who saw the everlasting winter approaching in the depths of the void. The land of the sun and the waters was no more. And so the eyes became crystals. The eyes became aqua auras and they learned the secrets of life. They learned to integrate knowledge of the stars into wisdom of the heart. They learned to integrate knowledge of the stars into wisdom of the heart. And they became the first philosophers. They became the first stones. They became the first lovers and seekers of wisdom. They were the trilobites of the ancient world with a heighten sense of vision. They were the water healing bugs. And they became the first solar being of the ethereal world. They became the first creators and protectors of the landscapes. She was the goddess of the rivers and in her sacred waters her children swam. And in the eternal waters of the mountains she bathed. She was a crocodile of the sweet genetic information. Her spirit lived within the veins of the earth. And her spirit would run in the rivers of eternal fertility looking for a chance to flourish from the void to the face of the earth. Some call them “Moss piglets” but other calls them “water bears.” They are cute adaptable creatures that harness the natural powers of the universe in order to evolve. They have learned to die and to come back from the death. Yes, lots and lots of years and hundreds, and thousands, and millions, and trillions can go by without resuscitating but they have learned that patience is indeed a virtue and when you are patience immortal life you can discover.
She is an astrobiologist and it is in her nature to thrive in fertile ground where goldilocks are present. She is the power of compassion and in her great comforting eyes you can see her glory. She is a cosmovision of inspiration and the philosospher and professor of Venus-Tlamatini, the Alexandria of the 21st century. She is the iridescent snail-nautilus of duality and in the waters she walks naked. She is a crocodile of brilliant shells and the breath of life and the wings of the terrestrial walking trees. And it is the wisdom of the spark of life and fertility what drives her inner visions of feathers and precious fossils. The tribe waits and continues to wait for the return of the solar wisdom, but it never left. She has always been here looking down upon the mantel of the stars and in the morning and in the night he is nothing but the shimmering of the glimmering skies. She meets the man of the moon and secrets are revealed. She meets the man of the moon, and comforts brings him to her heart. We have discovered the secrets of the eye of the desert. He is her Geometer and the blueprints of the sanctuary of the waters he knows. She is thrilled. Another type of intelligence she has gathered. And there she goes planting seeds of hope in the physical reality singing to the morning star. And there she goes opening hearts with her jades and her aqua-auras-floras. He has brought the moon to the solar desert where the winds align with Venus. He is an independent thinker of the stars that has made it possible. The new moon has become the mysterious and mesmerizing grey eye of the desert in the land of the turtle. His silver-blade-grey-eyes have become the eyes of the earth of the 21st century. And there she is curating the hearts of the blind and giving them new sets of virgin eyes. Welcome to the forest of the light. You may leave your body and let your spirit fly. I close my eyes and become one with the purifying souls. I swim in the waters not with my body but with my spirit. I walk in the beaches of the world and with my feet I feel the ashes of the plans traveling through my body. The ashes of life are powerful and regenerative. They strengthen me and my pains go away. I breathe and I separate from my body. I breathe and I am back to one in my body. I breathe and I don’t need a nose to breathe within the ethereal realms of the void. I am free. I have always been free. I look in the mirror and see the goddess that I am. And it is in the most pure and sacred waters of the planet, the sweet waters where I find protection from the spooky shadow people. They follow me in my dreams and I hide in the deep green waters. I am not scared. I have never been scared. I know who they are. They have tried to kill me with riffles and chainsaws. They have cut their throats in front of me. You may scare me but not with blood. They love to lurk. They love to hack my dreams. They love to place me inside a game where I cannot control the environment within my dreams. “How sick is that,” I whisper. They vanish when I speak the truth. They cut their throat in front of me thinking I will be scared but I can only laugh as I look in their eyes and tell them: “I know who you are.” I know who you have always been. I know what’s coming for you.” They torment me with projections. They torment me with nightmares and restless nights. You may kill my body but not my spirit. You may enter my dreams but not my heart. The soil of my soul is sacred. The soil of my soul will burn you. The soil of my heart will bury you alive and will gladly take your last breath of life. You can enter my dreams and in endless nightmares you will be trapped. And sweet dreams you will never have. In my dreams you will be trapped and within the walls of the void you will leave for life. I always come back. I always come back. I am the morning and the evening shining star. Laugh while you can. Enjoy it while it lasts. If they only knew that deep down the goddess within me there is a… Never mind. She says. Never mind just know I am the mother of death and let’s leave it at that… for now. I am the light of the morning star. I am the light of the evening star. I appear and disappear and in my triumphs I bathe. Translucent waters I create and while they think I am gone I am always in the air. I have always been there. The wisdom of my nature did not take me anywhere. The wisdom of my inner nature only allowed me to grow roots and branches and leaves. I was always a walking tree. I have always been a walking flower and a serpent. In the 21st century I am nothing but gratitude. The silver eyes of the desert have opened. The blueprints of the soil of the sanctuary of life have been created. The soil is the nutrient of our emotional well-being. The soil is security. The soil is the solid foundation of life and those who wish to live long lives. I open my eyes and I am back. I am back on my desk… where it all began. I am here planting my emotions in writing and creating realities with my quetzal feather…and living in the eternal autumn of my magical heart. I wonder what’s next. Just beware of the dancing plague. It is caused and induced by stress. And when you see the bird looking doctor appearing in your life… know that pestilence is around. Beware of the Miasma!
Now sing, sing and clean your wings!
Leave a Comment