EPL-
INFORMATION FOR YOUR BUILDING SOUL
When I speak of one, I mean The One. When I say one, or One, I mean just that...a complete One, The Complete, The integer.
Perhaps you saw through time, and thought you saw your reflection [in me]? I peered to you, oh blackness, nothingness, and saw progress in your event horizons view, a scope.
It was that glass menagerie of Prince Rupert's drop, by the thousands perhaps, hanging there, in suspended animation, or were they? Each a master sensor, of seismic activity, representing perfectly, the distaf, those two wings, driven in recent times by that vanity of Klotho. The right, transcending into fragile and perfect, PURE, nothingness. While the left, seeming crude, shrewd, indestructible, yet to be destroyed permanent, with a mere backlash ripple, an echo, from Phi 21.
You could hear the massive pounding, as if a Giant at the door, in some distant Galaxy were refused by a fair maiden aboard a ship (Shem), like this one here (Earth or Malstruck, the emanation), and were now in process of destroying the entire Orb Spider's web, proximally speaking.
The Drops, supported by nothingness, ironic. Each was life, a portal, a way. It all depends on whether your are one, in yourself, looking out from a drop, set about as a molecule afloat that tiny sea of but one PRD's potential, unlimited. It's hard to say who made them, or how they were first create, but they're being was definitely recreatable, thus rewritable.
I simply could not afford to entertain the thought, that I truly was, The One. As I factored through the logic, I found it to be the only way. Yet each Drop too, a hallway, safe, as long as one followed closely those scales, as set forth, by the Egyptian Book of the Dead, a Dalton's weight, absent giving off an offbeat frequency, could make the Light Journey safe.
All those little lights, which travel passed, and through, and some even to enter The Great Hall, or' Amenti.
Each a prism hung, each and every drop, made o' fire and ice, a moment, of Universal Materia Prima, suspended, marking the event, the Time.
I looked about me, and seeing that I was to either; care for these little trifles, which would soon turn to but sand from the straights of despair or Destroy them all, in order that we should try again, this time?
I had to yell, "YA MA!", thrice, with progressive conviction, "YA MA!!"...'and a final', "YAA MAA!!!! Nothing happened at first, and it did not happen as I would have projected an outcome, which I had not, I would not risk interfering with the results. Rather, The echo blast on toward nether regions of space, as to follow an Avalon and thus ripple round, and through other veins and venues as to echo back Phi, and into Phi purification, the purge.
Then it happened, The Great Event, that over and over and forever captivated Beast' and Heathen Hearts, a want. Life, and the final loss of it, at least from the vantage point of this prism' perspective. ~
The sands of Time, were all that's left, and a heartfelt Space In Time, A Heat, a Siberian Silver Platinum freeze.
When I speak of one, I mean The One. When I say one, or One, I mean just that...a complete One, The Complete, The integer.
Perhaps you saw through time, and thought you saw your reflection [in me]? I peered to you, oh blackness, nothingness, and saw progress in your event horizons view, a scope.
It was that glass menagerie of Prince Rupert's drop, by the thousands perhaps, hanging there, in suspended animation, or were they? Each a master sensor, of seismic activity, representing perfectly, the distaf, those two wings, driven in recent times by that vanity of Klotho. The right, transcending into fragile and perfect, PURE, nothingness. While the left, seeming crude, shrewd, indestructible, yet to be destroyed permanent, with a mere backlash ripple, an echo, from Phi 21.
You could hear the massive pounding, as if a Giant at the door, in some distant Galaxy were refused by a fair maiden aboard a ship (Shem), like this one here (Earth or Malstruck, the emanation), and were now in process of destroying the entire Orb Spider's web, proximally speaking.
The Drops, supported by nothingness, ironic. Each was life, a portal, a way. It all depends on whether your are one, in yourself, looking out from a drop, set about as a molecule afloat that tiny sea of but one PRD's potential, unlimited. It's hard to say who made them, or how they were first create, but they're being was definitely recreatable, thus rewritable.
I simply could not afford to entertain the thought, that I truly was, The One. As I factored through the logic, I found it to be the only way. Yet each Drop too, a hallway, safe, as long as one followed closely those scales, as set forth, by the Egyptian Book of the Dead, a Dalton's weight, absent giving off an offbeat frequency, could make the Light Journey safe.
All those little lights, which travel passed, and through, and some even to enter The Great Hall, or' Amenti.
Each a prism hung, each and every drop, made o' fire and ice, a moment, of Universal Materia Prima, suspended, marking the event, the Time.
I looked about me, and seeing that I was to either; care for these little trifles, which would soon turn to but sand from the straights of despair or Destroy them all, in order that we should try again, this time?
I had to yell, "YA MA!", thrice, with progressive conviction, "YA MA!!"...'and a final', "YAA MAA!!!! Nothing happened at first, and it did not happen as I would have projected an outcome, which I had not, I would not risk interfering with the results. Rather, The echo blast on toward nether regions of space, as to follow an Avalon and thus ripple round, and through other veins and venues as to echo back Phi, and into Phi purification, the purge.
Then it happened, The Great Event, that over and over and forever captivated Beast' and Heathen Hearts, a want. Life, and the final loss of it, at least from the vantage point of this prism' perspective. ~
The sands of Time, were all that's left, and a heartfelt Space In Time, A Heat, a Siberian Silver Platinum freeze.
No comments:
Post a Comment
PLEASE COMMENT, OR ADD INFORMATION YOU FEEL PERTAINS