I have a feeling in my soul, that if I just write until I feel I can no longer write, that is the exact moment spirit will find me, and I will consciously through their presence write something so profound that it shatters the fabric for our earthly tapestry. But, to understand language and to speak in such a way that collapses air from lungs, one must read just as much as they write. 

Read until I cannot read anymore, to learn and emulate the greats, to understand and dissect their messages like cartouches from a tomb. Unearthing the wisdom that has been buried inside the cosmos from the birth of time itself. Time echo’s its everlasting secrets; they penetrate through my aura to be deciphered and devoured. When conscious thought fades, my fingers align with the akashic – blending, unifying and commanding my subconscious to write the words being uttered from beyond conscious thought,

From realms of night, immortal poems which have been waiting to be released come into view. I hope I can be their sacred vessel, that they may use me to speak which has been waiting aeons to come to life. To breathe awareness from the thoughts of the earth so that humanity may bear witness to the greatness that lives in every corner, cell and atoms of our current plane. 

I know these words I write are not and never will be of my own creation. It is not I who could conjure these messages from my own flesh, I humbly ask to only act as the receiver, the channeler of primordial wisdom.

Oh what a gift, a noble and honourable way to spend this lifetime. To write my heart, experience the emotion and live through recorded thought, 

Today I believe in greatness, I believe in a world without fear, without hope for a life expected of me. I wash away great expectations and return to being uncarved, free from form and presumptions. To let logical thought float away and to be only filled with creative spirit. To allow my mind to wander, searching and stretching across the void guiding pieces of disentombed wisdom. The archetypes of this dimension speak to my soul and I am their vessel, their scribe. 

The sacred dark feminine lives inside the bones of me. She has been asleep for many years as I learned to navigate this planet. Cloaked in fear I went by unseen, but now my light grows bright. My vibration aligns with those I’ve been searching for, they now see me and my presence calling out to them from the void. The inner desert. 

I ask for their assistance, they know this world better than I, they see the full board and a broader perspective than I alone could ever fathom. It is through their collective contribution and collaboration we can make this lifetime grand. 

My ego is dead, I do not fear death, nor pain or suffering. For all is transient, impermeant, but with the word we can live on.

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