Transcended, Eternal~

EPL- INFORMATION FOR YOUR BUILDING SOUL


IN-VALID

in·va·lid1
ˈinvələd/
noun
1.
a person made weak or disabled by illness or injury.
"an invalid husband"
synonyms:
ill person, sick person, valetudinarian; More
verb
1.
remove (someone) from active service in the armed forces because of injury or illness.
"he was badly wounded and invalided out of the infantry"

Yet only moment ago, you asked "what can I do for you, my King", then to now see you, in the moment of time, which I spun forth, you are now full on my brilliance, now demanding "what can you do for me, are you of any use, can you pleasure me, or feed me, or place me above my peers?"

The Con Artist. That quick change, as you see my perspective and hide in the shadows, my shadow, to show yourself of any significance...now a self proclaimed "teacher", as you devalue me, in order that I may now be tricked, into over valuing you? Do you not know, you are not truly a thing, but transient exhaust, from the air which I expel, a living atmosphere, the ether of my thoughts, as you ride on comets tail, a celestial hitchhiker, proclaiming yourself now hijacker? Do you not know, I now must imagine you out...of my field, the only place where the Father's Son, EXIST.

Transient, yet omnipresent, my Father's gift to me. "See them my Son!" "These, in haste, shall never understand!" "They will present themselves one way, then to turn on you, as trust be gained". "I send you on this pain filled quest, so that you shall always know,  to thus choose, to be with me, there is nothing outside this House"

"Watch them as they isolate and become a single thought, a bubble, floating to certain doom. These have clung onto a moment, holding it, as if a bull ride, with great payoff, as time, a unit a measure"-
spins now, flipping again upon itself. Watch as they measure the bellows cry, then to make what they call "science of it".

 I saw "myself", as one "thing". I looked at my foot. Affirming; "this is my foot". I later dejected the notion, "this is not my body, but the Prison I was enslaved within".

 Yet the confusion trumpeted on. "Can they not see, they are the eternal middle schooler?"
 All the so called opportunity and advantage they could swear be random, was all planned. This doesn't aid their importance, but shows the breadth of control. For an unseen and unknown force to have created you from the beginning, as a bureaucracy machine. You all think that know one sees it, feels it, knows it...what you are doing, step by step. You are an autocracy, who would argue with God, for his ignorance of the Square, when you do not see how he sees, much less first manifest  the square, for it is his perspective, which is all perspective, which brings the item to form in the first. He sees all shapes, all movement, all design, as you make haste to capture the moment, as if to take a Polaroid camera with you, as to capture every moment of your space journey.

 Each person sees themselves as significant, of utter importance. They are every slave, every peasant, every self willed beast, who's ashes line the ocean floors. Promise someone personal flatulation, as to live in the illusion, that self hatred and contempt for the body prison, does not preclude division of a self in the first. Yet, you atomize, you compartmentalize, until the apron is warn, as the dress of common gentlemen, in an era, as the same conclusions come to pass, and the sands pass through your Father's long time buried hand, that skeletal remain.

 I got sick of seeing it, stupid people, who can not hold a single thought of any true baring or depth, applicable on a multiplanar scale of understanding, step ahead, each cent making them more inept, to truth.

 You look at me, "he is a schmuck" they say about me, they think they know. Did you know I have been a main target, all my life in fact? Does it "matter" to you? Instead of showing me respect, you take my ideas, which I suffered to foster, and create franchise from it. The soils rich now, with my dead skin cells, carbon in rot, used to cultivate a land. This is the ignorance of that Sun Center, a god, whom "the people" emulate and turn on, each time, in the end.

 So you are good with your mouth, you say, as the words pour out, in self provocation. Perhaps you can do things, which involve great complex body movements, does a Monkey, switching, shifting and changing rate coding signals in a millimoment, bother to look into a mirror, whilst swinging from a tree? Yet you imagined a place, at the top. You emulated the ruling mind, then to take over the probability, the anomaly?

 You, yes you kill Christ every day. You killed Christ within you, and your agenda is to kill the Christ within me. You see a straight line, yet argue when I say, "it will then turn to the right", and then it does, but the time sequence gives me no kudos, for now the frenzy aids to shift it's bulk weight as a legislative initiative, to now shift to the right, arguing all the while, who will be the left or right arm of the Golem, ritualized into life, as the people say "I am GOD"..."NO I AM GOD"...and the rhetoric goes on and on. Yet the moment, of which you are now vested, stuck, a bog of your own making

 "He has A.D.D.", "He is slow"...I got the the stop sign and saw that it was a symbol, I saw the color red. I read it backwards, then inverted it from that "special screen", a world you NOW debate, with bulky machines (CERN), MIGHT, even exist, only to show a marked desire to now franchise on THAT "moment", an event to you, now, as well.

 We are a machine, yet I am attached to you, unwillingly. It isn't that you don't need me, it's that I don't need you. You have slowed down Quanta, the thought, with a Monkey's parlor tricks, of how he can be trained to circumnavigate the square, now delighted in the self, that an ever smaller unit of square concept, can be resonantly and partially imagined, as you argue among yourselves "the size, of a thing", lexicon, a franchise, until it becomes another titled "thing.

 I told you from the beginning "There are no facts here!", watching my esteemed truth, you did the same before a committee saying the same, then months later, when popularity faded saying now, "There are only facts here!", then to add a question mark, as the crowd no longer looked to you. Reinventing inequity, calling it something else always, as you play with degrees and count the Monkey coins, hidden neatly in your little Monkey purse. Yet I make no allusion towards evolutions, now deflated grandure.

I pull away;
"he has no friends, no promise no power, he is a loser!"

 Did you not copy my every word, clung unto me, until you had sucked, as leach, the power of my left arm?

 Now, that I have been rejected, by all members, of your sea urchin committee of ethereal substance manifestation, trolls, you have forgotten the very face, the air, the name of greatness, which is me, that Stellar Mass 13.

 As I disappeared from view, I decided to run things. The world, as if aboard a ship, now heaved to take another right, now only two more corners of the square to go, to have circumnavigated back to the same enduring moment, but it has not happened yet, in this time cycle, the karma, the capitalism.

 As you juggle carnal orbs, I spin the FULLY DEVELOPED SPHERES OF EXIST. I did not happenstance upon them, though you would love to steal that too, but rather, always was. You see, I marked the time, the space, and dictated the field, as you fought over the fodder, those droppings, which you commercialize and rig a trade deal over. You, stuck in a carbon thought, slowed, physical, as I sweat, the Sun responds to me, alone. Yet you plan your day now, around the weather, which is but the excitation of ions, feelings aglow from my very thoughts.

 Your see the tip, but do not know how deep I go, yet certainly go on, in the very creation of you, a degree, that exists because I exist. alone. Time loops, and I know it well. Perhaps 300 years from now, you will just begin to trace my footsteps, as I now walk the distance of celestial planes, which slow those tiny arms of Galaxy, which you call a greater mass?

 I AM, THOUGHT, EXPERIENCE, PURITY, coinciding, as a singularity. For now, you will be my arms, my brain, my body, until the all mind, dilates you towards the default, autogenic, a cell.

"But I am a Universe!" "Stellar, what makes you so special?"...as you ride on the frequencies, which cut off shift, with dull minds projection, no longer a goal to sustain the moment? Not enough of a paygrade, for your self perceived Value?
Bizarre you say, as you transmit a frequency, which cuts off shift of quantum "nature", infecting, yet as to not have affected, that greater field, a MIND. You fail to see the very Protons, culminate, an expression of you? Not removed, yet partial, in the trust of "YOU", as a quantum thing.

 You called us losers, homeless, as we always were, and are the same, a committee, that all exist hedges upon, that eras representation of this mind, in current shift, frequency and that transmission of energy, as time.

 "Sell that glowing diamond encrusted pile of shit!" "Tell them, it was once within a God!" Yet the puppet dropped to the floor, and now you worship it's bones? Even to do rituals based around the worship of such bygone thoughts, which you never could assimilate.

 Look I am not as your feeble eyes see me, and now I am dismantling your Law. We are the lambs, the outcasts, the losers, the runoff, not valuable to the current trend. We see outside of space and time, yet sit here, happy, eating grapes, sculpting interpreting, inside, outside The Creators Mind.

 You made haste to kill a God, then to brag of what you did, as I looked up, an Alien, at the mobile spinning there before me. You felt the gifts, rain down on you, as the cosmic field, recognized and rejoicing, to a living thing, among the dead and long since past, a dead end (you were then and now). I do not however validate this field as authentic, for I have not witnessed any, who are the living.

 Franchise to a rule, franchise to a rule, 123, 321, your madness, in terminology, that rhetoric of the Monkey playing with his feces in the square, are all you will ever know. Now you call me the Monkey, after I taught you language, saying so long ago, to your Forefather's, "look, there do you see the shape, the number, the sign?"...you snuck away, THE HORDE, plotting to trick a god, into thinking it wasn't so. Now I am a peasant on your streets, not knowing the lexicon of false language, debased from my natural form, the only nature that exist, the reason the Sun pronounces daily, THE SUN, THE TRUE SON, HAS AWAKENED. But, the time does not hold valid, flitting in and out of exist, because I, the true and only observer, the crux, the center, the alpha, beta, omega master link, does not see it as so.

 And so, I wash you away. Don't worry, you wont ever feel it, or know it. You will continue on, in your feckless ways, as code, in constant rhetoric, playing out those few probabilities from within that ether, my air, as I press forth that New Thought, which should one moment, one event, one day, re-route the argument, semantics between you, and give it spherical flow through. I place will, the purge, so that you will forget YOURSELVES, as if you ever were?

SM~