I once wrote to mystify a tale of lifetimes crafted in each night and day. So I pray every night as I live a near-death experience before I sleep, and I wonder is it me or my PTSD?
Souls are precious for the soul-less and mine will never be for sale.
There are a million worlds out there and they are all lived here. Whatever might be the vows you've taken, by the morning they'll all lose their meaning because the night is harsh, and we suffer to sleep, and in our agony, the evil entities creep onto us with their mischievous deals.
There are a million worlds out there and they are all lived here. My vision's been recalibrated to see every version of what is real, in threads of colors descending, intertwining with my stomach and neck, like a magical key to a world that emanates consciousness in orange and red.
From the brink of death to love and respect, it is all good when I remember, but what can I do when I forget?
I sleep hoping that the morning will bring back my optimism
Back in my village, in the middle of a pine forest, I walk for hours radiating yellow and green until the earth swallows me and spits me out as a mystical bird-like being.
Like a peacock, I spread my shimmering, resonating feathers and bow to the giant raptor in the sky. I can only be obedient to his emanations. I fly back to my children, to my nest on a magnificent cedar tree. We entangle our necks and feathers in rapture knowing that soon, the earth shall reclaim my original nature.
By the sea I sit and patiently wait to remember why I chose to forget. The wind moves the waters, and the waves cast the sunlight onto my forehead. I feel the heat increasing as my structure dissolves. I gain back consciousness in an aquatic atmosphere taking a turtle-like form with a shell and humanoid hands. I swim down following a series of glares and vibrations until I reach what is seemingly an immense turtle temple. I feel a sudden danger and crawl back into shell. I open up my eyes and find myself sitting by the sea again.
Life is a journey of appreciation. I can only surrender and be grateful.
Life is all entertainment , just like a psychedelic theater, our thoughts and breath whisper reality into creation. I roam in and out my worldless kingdom Freedom's reserved for the wild and untamed. For who cares to know, we could fly our way out as falcons , or swim our way in as whales. It will never really matter because it's all entertainment , while we patiently wait for the emanations. Expectations emerge from preconceived notions and blocks the transmissions entitled to all sentient beings. Like a collective prophet and a magnet , we learn to filter the commands to percieve the matrix. Finally to redefine and recreate a convenient path that is real. Our thoughts and breath whisper reality into creation, i chose my fun as transmutation, life is recreational.
I will forgive but not forget and hold every bit of it inside of me to fester and burn like the pain and betrayal. You haven't earned back my trust completely and every time you raise your voice I wonder if I had the choice Or if the cycle and its circles run me, like a hamster on a wheel. Always going, never reaching an end, never a happily ever after.
She's blocking the pain so that it doesn't flow through her. Replacing is what she turned to, To make her pain be numbed. This had a complete opposite effect on the person she once loved. He fell for miles, Lost his identity and then got it back. That is hell. He has been to hell and back and now knows, Another person's pain is another person's pleasure. Both are evil things, but Now I know how to not let them get the best of me