I am the sun, I energize your day. I speak expressly to the humid air; 'dry up for a day that is bright and fair.' I command moisture to dry the lush hay for non-ruminants to be well nourished. I am ageless, and I am distinguished. My golden rays have living things enriched, my yellow rays induce the labourer's sleep, having toiled so hard for his family's upkeep. The flower smiles at my usual advances, and with her fixed gaze, she makes no glances. My loving rays speak with no utterances.
The day flourishes with my assistance, as I serve from my celestial distance. My service to you, none else can replicate. Without me, life-form will from the earth vacate.
at a glimpse i clock the sky a curtain's been draped and we are all shaded all of nature shares one direction narrowing on the horror : a munking and blotted violation the sun has filled with dark ink an embolism out of the order of life voiding over us over the city the world described beyond all voided over
i fall dropped and shucked the people around me go simple dumb and bound with crimple gawps we are mugged by the sight
i feel like a farmed over minefield furrows being turned trotted out anointed fears climb my throat it is a show sung ill sol darker sunk than its surrounding leadened soak yet ringed tightly with an annihilating halo
practical thought becomes clotted and my primal processor is tinkered with evil witterings squirrel about in my thinker my being is topped up with depravity
i must surely **** someone ? but who.. (that kid with drool ? / that business suit with brand name trainers ?) and for what reason ?
i madly stare about look at them ; so human and null potential victims all raking in snapshots of this ecliptic venom adding to the vat collective online Prune The Brutes ! it is The Eighth Day and I know my role Ha ! such livid thoughts scheme
i shall wait out this exposure looked down upon take some pics with the others perpetrate goodly behaviour mimic the tossers pass through the ordeal with communal protection and live another day happy slapped with fresh mad thought
We know that money is power And has been all along But now in Bitcoin’s hour Our money is fully strong
No inflation from dilution All value it retains A useful grand solution To safely grow our gains
Birthed by light from solar waves Encrypted crystal backing True ownership - its ledger saves Every detail tracking
Bitcoin builds a “cross world” trust Forming firm foundations For making, trading, holding wealth For people, groups, and nations
This is Bitcoin Poem 001 at BitcoinPoems.pro and you can see it displayed on a background when you (copy and paste the link below). https://www.bitcoinpoems.pro/poems/BitcoinPoem001MoneyIsPower.jpg Inspired by Michael Saylor.
Michael Saylor is the CEO of MicroStrategy (MSTR) and one of the most active proponents of Bitcoin. He says Bitcoin is Monetary Integrity. He is also the author of “The Mobile Wave” and started Saylor Academy - a non profit providing free education to over 1 million students.
Bloated solar systems draw sharp ships aloft its great celestial sea. I am battered and broken by the shift the storm sends my body adrift. But I seek to float and be rebuilt by constellations consolidating soulful songs so sight full that a bright star might sink into my orbit and maybe I could catch some light and absorb it.
I feel like I’ll never find the love I’m looking for
Breathe Steady 10.29.20 go forth then, unto God and his Glory, abounding and rejoicing in the power and peace of that holy dwelling place. abide, therefore, forever in the Love and in the Light. -sayeth the channelings, sayeth the distorted mask, sayeth that through which sound passes.-
sons and daughters of the Earth who bathe in the waters drawn of love/light/wisdom in the bathhouse of the higher densities and inner planes. Bath waters of golden white light, brilliant in a radial pouring forth of tangible understanding and freewill. scarcely can such energy be described in so cumbersome a language, charming as it endeavors to be. underwhelming must the emotions evoked be in comparison with the All Glory of experience of that which is spoken of. the death ****** of the fire-bird serves as its own inoculum and womb; two ends of a terminus in polarity.
I activate in order to combine, dwindling dread. I seal the upswing of trans-dimensional laughter, with the everyday tone of exodus. I am guided by the advent of thermals. -I am a solar riptide, surf me-
and then time slowed way down. the semi trucks were like great sea mammals with their whale calls and slow passage by the flanks. “Who are you?” “I am the Kalachakra.” “Did you hear that?” (hushed tones, hands cover the phone.) I was quite close to the illusion of Death. The opaque specter, shaking and rumbling the very fabric of the matrix about me. wavering not within the sinkhole of indifference lest my terror turn manifest. I’ve risen from a pillar of salt, I’ll rise from the embers next.
The face of tomorrow might be the last of my sight for the world; and when my pain ends today then how could I ever feel the love of one's presence before who might save me from the eclipse that is passing, from a story of lachrymose?