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.

oceanic feeling echoing throughout my house
while tripping over my plaid pajama pants
and the soles of my feet rejuvenated by the hot concrete

of recent days
the solar panels
and wind turbines
couldn't ALLEVIATE
the cold indoor climes

thereby causing the folks
of Texas to freeze
under the many inches
of thick snow

how they all hankered
for that old fashioned
coal generated
electricity
which would ALLEVIATE
the boreal conditions
atrocity

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.