“And there were no Angels that someday the sparks were not your thoughts, nor Angelic coaches that have not been created by your whispers, and the Comets who now behold the heavens were one night, the wonderful your kisses”.

By Light Walker - Deepak Sankara Veda - Mystik Poet for Esoterika - The Mystic ****** Poetry

Goddess of my Awakening dawn. Let me observe your illuminated skin, the divine and sacred scroll on which God wrote my mysteries.

Your golden follicles, the infinite world light receptors and creation, are the crowns on the letters of the Holy alphabet noted on your wonderful body.

Your nakedness is esoteric and when you gently Spending my eyes, revealest your sphinxes, angelic hieroglyphs are the notes in the score sung by Serafim.

Goddess of the dawn of my awakening. Your lips are the divine Edenic sources of heavenly delight. Your kisses are horseback riding chariot igneous creatures, souls sparks coming through my mouth to rest in my spirit. What could be more sacred than emerjantes kisses of your mouth? What could be more divine than your beauty and the light of your sensuality? Es, therefore, the object of my poetry, awakened in my mind the esoteric view of your magnificent *******.

Goddess of my Awakening dawn, Princess Christed rof aurora of my soul. Kiss me and make me your scribe, the immortal annotator of your mystical sensuality.

“Blowing on you my poems, the fiery breezes my Awakening, enflame you to burn me later in your flames, with your fire and your elightnent”.*

Esotérika - The Mystic ****** Poetry by Deepak Sankara Veda

"Fires in my soul the burning breeze that blows your lips. Your mouth is the creator of fiery angels, heavenly creatures made with the fire of your kisses, Serafim of prophecy whispering in my mind the codices of your moans, the secrets that God has written in your body. Your golden skin and a living scroll, papyrus noted the Angel of face.

Fires in my soul the burning breeze that blows your lips. I love your kisses, luminescent flowers in my Awakening desert".*

Esotérika - The Mystic ****** Poetry by Deepak Sankara Veda

"What could be more beautiful than your lips? Reciting the esoteric poetry of the Garden of Eden, the sacred prayers that the angels sing in heaven and noted the souls of the Scribes of the Heavenly Academy? I love the beauty of your mouth and the wiggle of your lips, the Gates of Paradise, reciting the Holy Qabalah of God. your mouth is the Tara'a of Gate of the Palace of Love".

Esotérika II - The Mystical Poetry Of The Awekening by Deepak Sankara Veda

Tara'a: Aramaic Zoharic "Sentinel" - Creature of Light that guard the entrances to the Castle of Heaven.

"Honey drips from your beautiful lips, words enshrined in pure sweetness. Your whispers are combs and your ******* distill nectar of the heavenly mysteries, the Divine puzzles are the songs that emerge from your mouth. I love your moans, sphinxes who prophesy to their language, the language of the secrets of your soul is the angelic song, the Codex that your kisses wrote in my spirit; your Sapphire stone".*

Esoterika - The Mystic ****** Poetry of Deepak Sankara Veda

"“I hear the voices of endless angels, when my eyes behold the beauty and sensuality of your wonderful lips. Your mouth tells me the ancient esoteric wisdom of the heavenly Academy and the ascended masters speak to me”.

By Light Walker - Deepak Sankara Veda - Mystik Poet for Esoterika (Book) - The Mystic ****** Poetry

"Impregnate my thoughts with memories of your beauty. I find myself watching the contours your beautiful lips, for me, the Gates of Palece of Love. I take desirous of you to open your mouth and I will hear your whispers, light sparks flying through your lips revealing to me the Wisdom of Heavenly Academy. Angels are your kisses and my lips wish the angelic creatures that blow yours, the sacred fiery letters emerging from the splendor of your soul".

Esotérika II - The Wake Of Mystical Poetry Deepak Sankara Veda

I wish the revelation of your sacred sensuality, the sacredness of your magnificently body, the codices written in your skin. I wish the poetry of your lips on mine and the songs of your ******* in my mouth. I wish the wine distilling your vine and sweet liquor that drips from your mystical fig. My mouth want the fruits of your esoteric garden and my Escalibur want to put down at the entrance of your cave on the rock of your altar. You are my Holly Grail…“*

Esotérika - The Mystic ****** Poetry by Deepak Sankara Veda

Kiss my soul, write your mysteries in my essence, because your mouth is Sacred Calamus, worth noting the Divine secrets in my mind. Your kisses are God's angels that escape from your mouth, the portals of Paradise.

"Il n'y aurait pas de poésie si je ne l'avais pas entendu parler à travers les chansons les anges chantaient par la bouche parce que vos lèvres sont les portes du ciel".

Português

"Lembranças, fragmentos de pensamentos que tivemos, vidas que vivemos. Este é o nosso purgatório, nosso inferno. Sim, estamos mortos. Nós destruímos a terra e já não mais vivemos e tudo o que nos restou foram as lembranças, fragmentos de pensamentos que tivemos. Estamos mortos agora...".

Francês

"Souvenirs, des fragments de pensées que nous avons eues, vit dans lequel nous vivons. Ceci est notre purgatoire, notre enfer. Oui, nous sommes morts. Nous détruisons la terre et ne plus vivre, et il ne restait que des souvenirs, des fragments de pensées que nous avons eues. Nous sommes morts maintenant ..."

Inglês

"Memories, fragments of thoughts we had, lives we live. This is our purgatory, our hell. Yes, we're dead. We destroy the land and no longer live and all that remained were the memories, fragments of thoughts we had. We are dead now ..."

Italiano

"Ricordi, frammenti di pensieri che abbiamo avuto, vive viviamo. Questo è il nostro purgatorio, il nostro inferno. Sì, siamo morti. Noi distruggere la terra e non più dal vivo e tutto ciò che restava erano i ricordi, frammenti di pensieri che abbiamo avuto. Ci sono morti oggi ..."

Espanhol

"Recuerdos, fragmentos de pensamientos que teníamos, vive vivimos. Este es nuestro purgatorio, nuestro infierno. Sí, estamos muertos. Destruimos la tierra y ya no vivo y lo único que quedaba eran los recuerdos, fragmentos de pensamientos que teníamos. Estamos muertos ahora ..."

Dinamarquês

*"Memories, fragmenter af tanker, vi havde, lever vi lever. Dette er vores skærsilden, vores helvede. Ja, vi er døde. Vi ødelægger jorden og ikke længere bor og alle, der forblev var minderne, fragmenter af tanker, vi havde. Vi er døde nu ..."

"Perfumes up, who poetess for a woman, it makes her as a mystic rose, exhale about themselves, their fragrance of her sensuality."

“Put your finger in your orchard within your secret garden and dance for me your esoteric dance, the revelations of your wisdom while doing drain the sap from your tree of life, the elixir that expands my consciousness, prolongs my life. Distills it into my mouth while sitting on my lips and gives me to drink your water of life. I wish you drink, feed me with the light of your ******* creators of miracles”.*

Light Walker - Deepak Sankara Veda - Mystik & Esoteric Poet for Esoterika - The Mystic ****** Poetry

“Removes the veil. Reveal to me the beauty of your beautiful ******* and your excited ******* filled with the desire to be caressed my lips. They are your secrets, your jewelry and your mystical treasures. Lifts the veil. Reveal to me your tree of knowledge, the entrance of your garden and allow me spoon with my tongue drops of Tal, your divine dew that drips from the leaves of your fig tree. Let me penetrate your garden, the orchard of celestial secrets with the stick of my miracles and feed me of Edenic sources of your *******. Lift up your veil and show me the beauty of your naked body and let me read the esoteric inscriptions on your golden skin, they are manifestations of your tattoos recorded in your soul, the light of mystic hieroglyphics of your spirit. Lifts the veil. Reveal to me the mystery of your mysteries giving me the wine of your vine and distills that drips from your sphinx. Removes the veil and reveal to me the entrance to the ethereal worlds of your soul, the portal to the world of emanation of your wonderful kisses, the sea of ​​your ******* on which my ship sails. Remove my veil, a curtain on my conscience and catapult it into the world of creation, the high land of your ******* which trickle milk and honey. Removes the veil …" .*

Light Walker - Deepak Sankara Veda - Mystik Poet

It is the Sabbath, and I am pleased to fulfill this high mitzvah and lead you to Paradise. It is the Sabbath and Shekinah Queen floating over you waiting to take you. It is the Sabbath and your beautiful ******* distil in my mouth honey of your secrets.

Tent of all Mysteries is your magnificent body. Your skin is my scroll and your follicles as the letters that God wrote on your magnificente skin and your belly adorned with my kisses. Hieroglyphs are your tattoos, sphinxes puzzles, the codices of the angelic scribe, the Angel of the Face, keeper of all secrets.

Destil out the liquor of your illuminated Vergel and feeds my world, like dew dripping morning. It is the Shabbat and your river flows now from your Eden to water my spirit. I hijacks thoughts your perfume. It incense aroma of your garden.

It's the Shabbat and already prophesies thy mouth the voices of Celestial Academy, whispering in my ear your high pleasures at the apex of your ******, revealing your messiah, your hidden light, creator of all my miracles.

It is the Sabbath and your Tantra connects the earth and the heavens, as a mystic linhame fabric with your esoteric moans. It's the Shabbat and you are the my highest mitzvah, the most sacred precept.

Silence! The voices stopped. The only sound I hear is the wind howling over the stones, the ancient building ruins, heaps ravaged by time punishes them as an invisible whip. Even the demons are silent now ...

I hear the most croaking frogs and even the sound of crickets filled the night with their songs. Rooster was. His voice was quiet for forty-two years. The only sound now is the voice synthesis of old hardware, metal head that red-eye placed on top of the old marble counter.

- Sir Water? - She asks - The radiation level is low today - finished. The same song sung once a week. The voices? They were silent. Demons are silent now.

Ahh! I wanted to hear the voice of the old rabbi, that white-bearded long peyos when he said to pay attention to the little voices, the voices of the humble, enlightened wanderers, sparks of mystical alphabet, warning humanity that the day would come when voices calariam.

There inside, the demons remain silent. Their voices were silenced by the voice of evil that planted residence in the left chamber of the heart of man the temple.

The ghetto is cold today. People gather around the fire lit inside the old barrel of oil, black blood, called him. It no longer exists. The veins are dry and the blood no longer runs more ...

The white spots covering skin. It should be a good sign, but it is not. Leprosy went devouring the souls of men, women and children. Neither the animals escaped. Contaminated are exiled. They send them to the valley of oblivion where the voice never will rise. They used maliciously. They slandered her. His calumnies were launched in the wind like the leaves of the old oak tree that stood in chaiim forest. He also stopped. The wind no longer howls more through its leafy branches.

Ahh! Where is the voice of the rabbi? He was dead by religious dogmatists. His bright sparks no longer crackle through the air. Even the demons no longer speak. They shut up inside.
Where are the voices of poems and poets? It is also silent. They were causing itching ears of humanity. They accused: - the mighty were the leaders of nations, with their palaces decorated with blood. Blood of the innocent. They made them shut. They caused itches to power the ears.

The gleam in his eyes blinded. It was in 2029 detonated the old Russian gun exchanged for a piece of bread to feed the starving children. All of them died with nuclear heat.

Silence! The voices stopped. The only sound I hear is the wind howling over the stones, the ancient building ruins, heaps ravaged by time punishes them as an invisible whip. Even the demons are silent now ...

Ah! Where is the voice of the old rabbi? I wanted to hear it now. She stopped. Even there inside there is silence now, even the demons whisper more ...*

By Deepak Sankara Veda (Misha'Ël Ha'Levi) Mystik Poet

I do not create your poetry. I read the Angels that your mouth creates, the Seraphim that emerge from your beautiful lips and who ride in Merkavah of your whispers in the Divine Chariot of your moans, the delight of my Awakening. Your body is the Sacred Field, seeded with bright grains that bloom bright Lotus. A stellar river flows from your esoteric garden and watering the shine of my soul. I’m Awake, and it was the angelic poetry that prophesied your beautiful lips that aroused me. I am your Buddha now, the Bodsattva of your wisdom, the guardian of codices whispering your mouth.*

Esotérika - The Mystic ****** Poetry by Deepak Sankara Veda

Your mouth is the Tara'a (תרעא), the Sentinel of Hall of the Mysteries and your lips are the Gate of the Palace of Love Palace, the chamber where they live all poetry.

Your kisses are consent to allow me to come in and read all the poems that God has written in your skin.

Your body is the temple of the Divine and I love contemplate you naked without veils that hide your attributes, the mysteries of your sensuality.

When, to my eyes see you naked , God is revealed in your nakedness and the heavens unveil all the mysteries, singing through your mouth, the Seraphim mystical songs loaded secrets of the Garden of Eden “*

Esotérika - The Mystic ****** Poetry Deepak Sankara Veda

Note: Tara'a (התרע'א) is a Aramaic term meaning "Opening - The passage from this world to the world of Heavenly Palaces (היכלות)”.

2) - The Watchtower (luminous creature) that guards the entrance to the Celestial Palace.

"You are Beer-sheva, the garden of the seven lights, and I desire to dwell in you forever." Your lips recite sparks of light clothed in mystical words, your body is an esoteric tent, and the wise meet to observe you. Your golden skin, a scroll where the angels write the desires and the care of the heavens.Your beautiful ******* are divine sphinxes that hide the honey of Wisdom.Who will be worthy of you to feed? On what lips will you distil the sweet and sublime honey that flow That I may be worthy to drink of your honey, and that my mouth have merit to prove the waters of your fountain, for you are the Shrine of the Divine, the dwelling place of the Holy Presence in this world.You are Beer-sheva, The garden of seven lights and I eternally desire to dwell in you. " Sipra Shefatai Tevuna (Lips of Sublime Understanding)*


Deepak Sankara Veda

For me, please! Unveils the entrance of your sphinx; the gate to the hall of your mysteries, show me the opening that lead me to your paradise. I want to delve into your depths, the liquid light of your *******.*

“Open a small opening for me and I will shew thee the celestial enigmas (The Zôhar Parashat Emor)”. - Light Walker - Mystik Poet

You were my altar! About your ears I recited my prayers, my waking prayers in my soul by the contemplation of the beauty of your magnificent lips, the esoteric contours of your body and my spirit wanted to hear the songs that emerged from your mouth, delicate whispers aroused by my whispers in your ears.

You were my altar and I wanted to enter your temple, go beyond the veils that hid your mystical sensuality and behold thee naked, revealed before my eyes. My mouth wanted to reach the honey of your ******* and sweeten all my judgments.

You were my altar, and my lips constantly wanted the wine in your mouth, revealing in my mind the secrets of the Divine that dwells in you.

You were my altar and on you I recited my songs, my sutras and litanies written in the siddur of my soul.

You were my altar, my esoteric Garden, and your Lotus was my heavenly song, the Bhagavad-Gita of my heart. I was your Arjuna and you was my Krishna ... ".