Sailed one is it, the direction of perfection.

To my order of nullius millions to become of the blinded crusade, that I nought draw my sword for God but to wield in honour of the good cause, as it is but all left the promise of laments.

Attainable but broken, lost but found, remembered but sequestered, nought laundered but retrieved.

Hallowed, yet I know the meaning of the word. A secret past, a moment to vehemently cherish.

The touch of the rose, the small tomatoes' colours collision, a vision noted the Scryer; The woman looked but as if to see a knight, but eyes told the meaning of being.

“Remember who you are, nought be gone by the distress of the world, sing to us knight of nine?”

•••

“I’m not who you think I was, were, or been,” — I said with a humiliating smirk, as I forgot how to smile.

May the being of primordial ohm, the seer of all things bless me as I missed a calling among the honourable duty.

Then— when I was but young I wanted to unearth the ancient being of Paleolithic Umbré, the teeth of beasts and the humorous—Holocron, Holocene memories.

I’m very thankful; mostly for Her and as lost as I became, so much more closely now, though it all feels like a dream.

Oe’st, are those, then I realize.

I am not okaying, I know.

Yeah, I’m obsessing over thistle’s book.

I was, but I had an Epiphany about the story.

leaning my mind out, getting things right.

I’m elated amidst the Process of elimination of objects, not I, discombobulation?
I know, I just really didn’t want to be like this there.

Yes, I’m in love but I’m not showing it because the right freedom is in the now, it’s safe to say that I’m not okay but I am, and I will.

Yes, overlooked, I have been having a rough time with my writing projects, but today I’ll be up to par.

And catching up, talking about it with clans excited to see everyone is doing well, much— much loved — please, do bear with my tardiness, off at the assignment.

-(/Ouija Oracle Poetry/)—will be okay, promised <∞>

Nine years ago I attempted suicide, I had a putrefaction moment.

I’m alive and well, life is great, definitely kinda lonely and dazed, but I’ll make it up to you in utterances younger and witter.

“The fitting fox and swimming trees, she to sing of the magnificent ostensibly psychedelia, me too.”

Like that of the jester and a monk.

Coined, authored and sung for the first time since the beginning of this invention to provide a new way to the Sun and a mountain of lore. Rooting the chrysanthemum in so doing. I, eluding.

Working on piano odes, I have many ideas fruiting.

Saw a little swarm of monarch butterflies today, and another owl the night whilst I admired the trees.

Moments is I, of nil the unto the toil, sullenly bulker I finesse to parade upon the grounds of gladiators methods, to forever the soldier of fortune.

I will live upon my tongue of silent serene, sorrows benign or memories moorland strand.

·|⟨«‘Ut sempiternus fiat, haec pax diligentis,

Terrae dolor non sit. Hanc animam adstrue,

ad discendum et trade testamentum

faciendum monumenta.’»

-Rest in peace.

My love I missed.

I need not lose.-

Odpočívaj v pokoji.

Moja láska mi chýbala,

nemusím prehrať.»⟩|·

…

Straddled upon the gelidity.
Something stirring, deep inside me,
I just wanted you to see.
—that I’m more than what I–
Not the old man, Used to be.

( Fuck, the memories! )
Our conteries, I have none. Contrary.
I laugh at my memories enemies!
Mine, and her surprised suites—
Ace of Spades, slithering!
 — within my glade.

I know, I'm aching, Zion's...
Shovel the Axiom, slipped the
(a.) — Coweled, I am an adage of thee, nail me
Upon the inversions of human immersion— though (Gally) Woman of Earth, I ask— while they all stared at me —
Who's laughing now?

(b.) — [ leave me more alone- ]
(Why?) — rebirthed me, expatriated love, but my relapse prevention kept on.
Can't you see, my own world to be—
"So dedicated, too you and the craft."
She sings, empowerment, communicate truth whilst I degrade my way in (degrees); ø--
 — One, Two, Three?

…

Rabbits rasping,
Riddled rabble, arouses—
Reversed, (laxity)
Lucious, my bitter Love. —
(C.)—
“Mother missed me?”
Forgotten, my own filigree!

I really don’t know what I need.

The subtleties, degradation
I
Remember
Oest, aryth then I realize.
 — Hanging head, giving into father's (names) — if wish to be— this love was my how I'd met my downfall the last time upon this orbital sidereal Stone.

…

“Upon The Gates of Lyric”

Part one.

Me within the gates of I as much as I don't like using the letter I have constantly and inherently found myself throughout my minute number of years using it as more of a placeholder than an accent of so-called possession, or distention of common self-image and respect to my surrounding ideas of self-projected egoic separation as if there were light and sudden weightlessness the mourn of the day.—

Upon then or often, (when you and I) of any mammal or any cognitively astute being as in a mind or sentience would and haphazardly distinguish in within itself a hurriedly or uncommon Sense of what we denoted and define definitively as the letter i as or within to let go of my shadow to hold the idiom and old idiom in that regard that somewhat says in a misused mindless lexiconic chasm by the grace of God go I, therefore, ought shall.

As I've so helplessly missed out on the thoughts I hold on to my lost heart swimming into the missing lost and bygone time in the reflections broken upon the walls I, a lost Homeland tore away from her tale into we all now lest we beget and left to get or let, then left behind.

The tears also drowned into the blinding lights blinding me to a point of augmentation searing upon me a codex of the boiling blood laughing at myself and now I see you so much more than there was before I see it through thy lies and I hear through thy voice to think about it so much too how much anymore although I may or may not have missed out upon my missing parts thy.

Lost counterpart undying delivering decadence piece of mindless chatter for they know not of anyone's segregate he left himself to leave I would rather legate my pretensions yes I admit upon myself many things for which I've done I do helplessly now except that of my past that of my present now is mostly delusional.
Nonetheless, objects of her—

— as I shall enterally lay about her dreams, we of Oneiric Cultus.

I learn who I really am and what I am capable of teaching but I am not working towards a whole or humanity for I must have fallen from Zion, not in the baptismal sacrifice not in the non-fortitusual, but which came further now of the voids too I to protect the narrow slave and that of my family's enclave our strong sword mounted upon the wall sharpened by the teeth of my own as them now.

Her and to be the heart to earthquakes a best—

in my steps and my still heart beats only for the yard of her love but my Astra monde—
To see and then to bless of her voice now for me as I were to caress the last thing I ever held that of a book which floated onward into the evil;—
Tree Grandiflora, further into the void.

As many to say that though or we or it we mostly we as they say you never dream of sound but I can hear her voice in my dreams telling me not to worry and be of myself and that we are of a dual unit a unit so far by gone In Time that it's etched in stones that it is written in the tree bark that the Stars and languages we may never know as those languages are etched upon my brain and a representation of a constellation etched upon the top of my only hands where the filth lay covered to prove only that I could only provide...

For the lasting sentiment bestowed, align my love moments clockwise hypnosis is the only useless go ahead she said and as I laid my head down I offered the back of my neck and I also said the only thing stopping you is your fear of the sword then until then I fell then unto the morrow of me bones quaking my head fell to the ground and I gazed upon the twilight...

Animal Orientium, the sleuthing boring numerical oppression of hacking at the tree showing you my strength through words and nothing else but more than that I never for your attempts sorry unwittingly to which you never meant nor I inherently I am the god of an immortal world left by gone by the oppression.

Aside from Rectification, she lives for words cyclical, draught night, with nine.

They to be like Orpheus and Eurydice once more, this dreadnought I’ve played, sanctioned of greed, lust, and agony— in my meejed memory by memory the memorabilia of my sword blessed pulled from the sheath hearted brought about into the stone also that stone is hers she is the girl in the Stone myself and that matter how or hearted no matter the stronger or Departed I protect my words I protect my love and I will protect her or memories Belial Form.

And forever bleeds and so I am left now by myself gazing at the stars counting them through which the telescope speaks back—

As much of a fly upon an event or a mosquito slithering within the gay gaze truthfully the color of her from the trees I walked along an endless path missing along in the words that I laughed and on the wind I heard the words of the apostasies and I mock them I step upon my own grave if you wish to mock me your best.

I, the furthest going wish would be to mock yourself my brother and I only rise I am selfless to give about the fairest understanding of the self as there is no self or I the letter i is merely just a mirror smearing itself if you were to put a spherical mirror upon sorrow, and my position in her oracle of counsel.

Crest, you will see that you are nothing less than what we forgot which was wordless 2,000 years ago for I am stuck and I sad saddened by the scared and scarred unable to move from my own words as so the sycamore sap lay low to show me the end of my chaos and Symbios to wear her Symbios herself was but the caution the causation missing the memory there now singing and vowel seance as and then we're merely but mindless apes becoming what was left of the troops left from a dying age apocalyptic, nuclear.

Undying upon burning, the sun fell from the sky peering through a mindless eye we are all lost gazing glazed to the stained glass eyes liquid Bliss, Shakti dancing to there with me as she is a Shakti perhaps me too I already know I could sing aligned emptied bleeding as I go further untied my binds true freedom di she's very much like me an image imagined 33 beings but I'm the sin I am the symbology of synagogues gone burned and crash down from the flying ships above as to orbit the earth and show the world what was lost to the times.

For I am the symbology the last Mastermind the only known berserker blood boils time stops hearts bleed love seeps sweat smells that of dying oxygen, the powerful metallic sand left upon my flesh as I am eating instantly I decently attain this dream for what to become in the eye or one as she the wolf in vulpine and I dancing in the forest waiting.

I can see I can share I smelt it was terrifying wrapped in plastic for they only want to scare me I am beyond and I am above they wouldn’t stop leaving me alone before I deserve my loneliness I deducted reverse physicality the god and man as always to say the black mic is like a red violin, my power to imagine is every one it’s within you perhaps not a part of me but deeper the throat chakra.

Photon resonance of my chance I do practice for maybe it's just a constant reminder that elders are watching, I do there too now remind myself to constantly elicit respect for the time the earth and the sound for I am I and you are me deep within me though the elders saying they cry.

They mourn the Borealis Hinge of ozonic memory they say that it is dying and it is our fault times bleeding through it and that is not good for we can be detected from further homes we need to align we need to sanctify through ourselves and go back to an ancient way through that of words and that of chant and that of symbolic vibrant percussive deepening though now the Borealis does respect itself and asks for our allegiance, yes!

I do in memory but it's just a friend I used to Know to lay lateth for it is a missing link Upon our dream us standing in a little Glade waiting for water cold, this vestibule deepening my words like a catacomb panopticon deep in a spiral of the mind followed.

I've gone beyond the number nine it's also an aisle deepened forgotten a steeple obelisk lost in the words that I must do that I must not for I must exist upon the craft of time I see through that now startling starting me to write it over and over starting to things begin to sound the same words begin to seem the same beginning to write over the same thing over and over they chant they asked they plead they beg perhaps it came from.

Elohim or he possesses the heart of Persephone and me with the eyes of Horus and her with his kin a shadow to bless them to know he is stronger and she will help him do I miss the cave how do I miss the cave the only cave that we have left is what we find within you and what you might find within Me that was amethyst, Amaryllis, a quotic crown of herself, and Orpheus, lone nepheline if musicology, king of the earthen scales.

Zion fell, alone then for him she said she's been there because of words.

‘The Cursed Owlefeather Quill’.

(Take everything, I say as a bit of salt.)

¶

The old man I, amétis —
purity of being protecting—
holding my strongholds
keep better than my
own paths memory
of being but a lusty
mosquito like those
of the Midway infinite
distant fear is repealing
reprose that I’ve lost
a part and within the
art My brother,---
|their sights, redundancey.

what’s the: —

Don’t you see?
do yours see monks
⁴Took of shepherds do they
know but then the flaws of sick,
leninists?— lenius the fellow man
be it dying I see through
them I too have a pain
I am the pain I laugh am
I supposed to be bothered
was it all that it meant
but a single thing my lesson’s time
cannot be taught in his or his life
Itself nor that of her oh
r hers that of my own
THIS my lesson the shadow
shallow be scorched radiance
the Lost lessons of time I—

(self versus I) protect them,

shown my vile, Passion?

¶

Soaked, rainstorm ashen;
neglect myself to be as
I have within the veils
and veins of voices
remained scribbled upon
the squire carved into
stones from ancient long ago
shall be danced upon in and with an
All-Knowing dragon upon
his grét.

·

Android they,

Hyperion, I
could have lost everything

Everything and all, I did.

He’s completely to, renewal.

Formulate a codex for only

You too, soonly enjoying;

(enchanting)—
smelled the breath from
the ether, I had no fear ·
vantage point,
gone and his falsely—

I,
too accusing out of
the hate that he stowed⁶
yet he claims peace
Daniel in his place,

Learning he was, and

yet to be.

He’d let himself free here

Knew naught narrowly,

his wisdom too.

knows not of the truth
but his lies to hurt
himself upon the rest
of my mother still

Wheezing.

laughing at his age, l
I am the higher and
the lover, The Seers
and nowhere of seated.

I went about, yes

Spent so much time, alone.

This is to release the demon.

To make everything okay again.

I sung.
In the seagrass upon
Nile’s tongue, the purple voids
we to be kept this protection

(frænδgloidian)

to thy play our child and
unknown story to run from
there to ascend within‽

“ Hymnal of Astrolabians ”

1

Mother of the nymphs, The herald image beyond the veil Of tattered sleeves that I would wield.

I’ve become close held the heart of mortal compass, mine now etched upon those sleeves, and dried by the presence of Ra…

2
Upon those leaves now were his kin to demonstrate my prize as a mere lamp, this currently mindless sanction take that heart and feed it to the hungry…

³

Forests of my arboreal give them some air to breathe of Ash, and sad in a breeze of carrying oh damned wraith of orphaned.

2

Younger brother,

— take my mortal trophy! Amongst, please!?

Scatter it about the mighty realm of Azul a purification mule, I need not my heart to see my own?

1

accomplishments are obliged heavy, that in wealth, but the extrication of numbed lost blessed maiden she, of the misplaced brides now morning starlight cast out the false smiles of realms, too label things which take and trait and taint all things of man

2

and his soul I do not care for the sad and wretched Man, for the lousy searching man of nimble pleasure for my pleasure half died lost has in the embracing to us a morning in August

1

as did my thoughts of leaving to a mountain hail the number 33 upon my hand hearts lost amongst the blindness and fellows to reward what a lust of competence I need for a grain of rice the longest minutes to guide the already dying to an evermore misleading candle of replaceable hope

1

nigh not me Brothers turn, Brothers and Sisters in Odin’s blessing sing for those Again, repentances for—

ⁿ brothers, mothers beget their sisters, and sons sons damn their fathers ghostly image; which I have done and I have commended to be renewed by a new vault of words

2

to understand exactly what I am saying wrongfully attained since of the clarity to them I laughed my respect and offer them my prize yes I am my own man I the man of the truly who sees fill the goblets with their feast of the lost and I shall curse…

1

narrow-minded mother whom I never accept my own wretchedness she knows but neither do I upon me now a hope of Orion take me to the lungs of Dionysus—

ⁿ

send my soul to the feet of human desecration— I don’t want a part in it missing letters now — and then within my maze of Earthing labyrinthine, the heroine…

I much too love her so, for the light of peace merely.

…

I love, beyond our æternity—

Sincerely, Ürlīærūen 5 —

“The Songs We Sing” (Part II)—

“Decoding the same. I was just a month, so they say.”

(The becoming of a journeyman, not of trade.

But of timeline, timelessness, expanse!

— (History, wisdom -Scintillating, nocturia, Owlean my friends are too, we juggle the word though space, a backyard bloom.)

“Oh, great, high Odin— I can’t take your lessons too much; to hearts— the ache runs deepest, sense oest earth

Aired out of the Earth love, it was a flowering desert toad flew, I embolism.”—

That— for feminine mystique; for my love she burns, and itches for the scorns to warm this reassuring wreaths—

Oh, perhaps Lilith knows —

But I’ve really sold my soul for my father’s — to which then Head within my quiet cold.

Offered- pledged intlil- meet Upon I,

— his eye sacred peace of sound—

There it says — Mother, sai’dth’ed

— “I pray for her life; take this heart — : take emotions away — dying I am!” —

watching my mother’s weather, my brother’s wounds I’d healed, Wayward flames —

—

Monochromatic memories— Now, Ieyes; until…

Forget my own name, today I catch recreation- within love, In Love, much more love than all truth! The bottled color’s collider, I stare through the hole — deciphered‽

— it’s longing — the alcohol; the monster just passed åghasté the suffering of my own everything I alone everything I’ve Loved…

Gone! my respectfully yearning for an honorable Job—that MADE, I’ve met along — within The-

All Father, There He sat down, with me and we cried together…

I longest, I longingly, to amends my aimingly — family’s opia which I have longed for me to have them shave, starve of my isle Mind—

Helping me…

And sit in the Sun— Android to the grindstone, embraces the warmth of a long forgotten Time;

but I needed, as opposed to a want –and attend, making amends to our withering great-grandmotherly —

— souls of time helpings the deepest mine, for the most I self less, reflect that ethic— Her through the days that she gets older or she acts to ghostly songs;

— -albeit—

Xenotroph, misanthrope?

Architect of the Earth, see?

She, in the ceaseless remembrances, t’was was the bliss, such beautiful memories indescribable was the —

— passiveness

“ I’m the voice you’re afraid to use, I’m the chattering cold you dued, but never knew, of my presence.”

Then Yore’, a good woman, knowledgeable knowing, I am the Boson, roar it will my love, you’re so now—

Opine, vulpine— the one through that eternal darkness that saved every Truth.

Ianthe, she always told me one evening

Don’t fall asleep by the sea
Rings of heart and rings beauty

I just say “Hey!”-

And I listened to those long
Lost ghostly songs, leaving me in, hive bees
Oh how sweetly and sweaty, Iantha sang to me

Don’t you know, what the woman’s work can be

I know you like it totally, missing you more every day

I have my way, and you’ll see that fire and laugh at me!?

To sleep baby, shall we sing together, like her Iantha told me long ago, so her name will be Amber like your favorite drink, honey you gotta make it there…

When you want to free, get in ties and suits, you’re a song to be — oh, this washing blueberry liquidity and I have been across the street?!

Oh Iantha sang and told me, tell yourself it’s a small grove of trees, with the two big pine trees…

Play that for me, she said

Missing part of it, to memory

My words she sings, soul torn apart of

bribes “mamerit" ?

I disagree, I want you to see me to eat me.

Learning how, as I step into my power; to be free of worry and torrentially towers of toppling sanity.

While writing a book, is definitely a no easy feat.

Then I realized that there is so much else to be done.

I’ve been deep in a literary deep dive, when suddenly I found myself, in the ceaseless tide of myself.

It was too loud, now it’s too quiet.

I want to make noise, I want to get stupid.

Even though I Know, I probably shouldn’t.

But I know how irresponsible it is.

Bring somewhat of a caregiver has taken it’s tole, it’s not the same, that’s for sure.

[Special thanks to the bellowed, hath mentioned writers of psychology and developmental philosophy.]

Hello!

In the deepest of simplistic, but unpretentious (or)— 'understanding' those inner needs in validities;

I’ve been in my head and "anxiously silent" about a lot of aspects, arises so that I’m a lot more sensible than I anywise Use to my own experience and proficiency of what benevolent mentality which I cannot have let be therein -bestowed myself merit for; and it only gives rise to the sense that I’d have a genuine Intuition to lull or circumvent myself for—

·deciphering the "Alpha Mundis".

-the moral and spiritual exemplar of speechless, excitement.

No matter the chaos in my mind, I have a way to free myself of metaphysical but, very much real chains of the past.

As many might have or not have endured on there own, with it without psychology or definitive therapy.

One thing remains however, in the sense that —

A both, chaotic however, pure vernacular structure of the "Chi" of my once degraded psyche with masculine midsts, as well as the feminine energies that men posses.

My takeaway from the ether and presence—

When it's all quite normal in a sense that everyone has a shadow, and a dark spectrum of psyche, and the past 6 years have been rather enlightening, in the world of mirrors and self-transcendent spiritual discovery.

I thought attraction in art, music and the human race was something to fear, I was somewhat—

brought up to believe in that aspect of sacredness in love and opening myself up to people, but I leaned that spreading across the past six years—

-I was simply learning to be comfortable in my own skin, in the sense that I need to let go of visual stimulus and balance the vibes, but also follow it in respects to my desire and the truth in the words of my parents.

Which I had to somewhat decipher and that was to understand that in order to live and love one must accept oneself, and transmute all of my trauma and negative thoughts and intrusive—

“mannerisms” into something that would make me a better person ultimately, I have many artists, writers, poets and musicians alike to give gratitude in retrospect to that learning,

But in all truth I thank most, the work of Carl Jung, Jordan Peterson and my initiate family, my mother and most of all my brother and grandmother, as they are the only ones in truth are what I could consider friends. I also have one good person I'd consider a "best friend", but they're more like a brother than friend.

In conclusion, it’s inspired so much creative flame and prowess within that!

An esoteric mindset if

— “do whatever facsimile.”

Quite the self healing journey this year so far, but I still must be true to the light of my own, while respecting that of my own love and counterparts, and I have long since discovered that to make a lasting impact that both entertains me and heals my surrounding universe, and hence with that discovered tenet, I’ve written and produced some of the best art I’ve ever made. —

“Ye do what shall will, Ye knowest the whole of the Gnostic mimic.”

— “Alelister Crowballs” .:. LIBER…

ΐ I:Ι ι
“The Healer”
·Āltha.

[Magnum Opus # 6]

Great destroyer, rêveries' Mother of & in the void-like obstinate abstinence.

Sanctified and sacrificed, and too;

Cacophonically crucified crushed Circadian couplets in my, my —

verbally boldly, blindly bashing.

Accidental I, astound my–

boundaries, to become many unto—

You and my family are in need; we stay together this way until I say, now that you’re lauritets epithelial; -

captivated—

[so much] that the trees, murmured-

‘þistilhårta’…

“Seal him epithelialis, He is a channel of divine being!”

Disagree with our secrecy!-
 — In honor of Althea: her house, and your grandeur gradients, — (Red and Blue! As then within Your empowered body and heart, blessed her sorrows of the lost cities and places, she’s always right.)

You! Now a master, shall humbly show thee that you know not what I am, was, or to be–

Remembered, Master of this momentary…

Destroyed and I, tirelessly ρæanumtæd—

— rescinded Cleansed and offered up, and yet

Cacophonically, cruciate crucified –downtrodden, and enemies only Sanction my shone sorrows upon;
- My forsaken fathers scarves and wheneverupon it then;—

polysynchronism — nil. Nihilium…
Λναθ)- Brīnthyius oppressius)– Promisingly omlarities‽)—

Δάσκαλος Σαμάνος!

Phytohaemagglutinin Phobean lucid rêveríes Me.

- scars-balloony to be a moonbeam-in my fashion scenes

Circadian rhythmicìón couplets in my my verbally boldly, blinds owly swatting the same
Casting me a flame of you and me

Accidentals, yet diligence my way to blue—

Lasting— my boundaries, to become many unto In the managiere of me omnipotently You and my family in need, so much that the trees,

— Disagree with our secrecy…

Ou’st humbly show thee that you know not what I am, was or to be—

Remember this momentarily - destroyed and demolished, but a masterwork if architectural synaptic snytaxicallí, magically makes us pleased.

Go now, impressively!

Slain and and tirelessly abolished Sanctified and sacrificed, and too magistrate the majesty of —

Thy Foremother and Holy vessels, by the Sun’s obliterates…—

Rights of HER CHOICE OF LIFE—
that’s what resides upon her lands.

I, The Undying Laureiatum!

Ξ

Cipher: · A|A.:.22 .complete

Then, forefathersholy—

I was maybe eight years stale.

I wasn't haunted by a relic. Or an anthology of memories, those of which is almost absurd to decipher.

The reminiscence of these and some are relatively otherworldly, and make me feel an overpowering sensation of terror but comfort in trying to put them together, despite my years of drug abuse; contributing to my memory links not very useful, but they're in my memory, I glimpse them in "flashes", deep understandings of gratitude and intuition, but vision...

Although -

Not only from my experience with upbringing and parental carelessness, but my personal understanding with my skill to see 'aspects' before they arose or this deep, incomprehensible relation with the metaphoric nature of Earth and Humanity, although—

I never talked about it.

I'll do the best I can, I know what I saw, I know what I felt and it's lead me down a deep and contextually complex, but healing shamanic journey. The disbandment of course in my outcome, or what I am; no other message but nullifying.

But as child I was enduring aplenitude of metaphysical and esoteric experiences, along with an underlying background of both vast ego neutrality and nullification. Which has it's effects on a young one, but I never speculated anything of it, never even bridged my intellect until one extent...

It was cyan.

It came from the atmosphere.

But it was noiseless, and delay.

And there was vermillion, spheroidal.

I felt so horribly unnerved, but I constantly had a strong enough sense of vitality, but I was incredibly, and otherworldly terrified.

It was obviously so far into the skies but still had a considerable diametrically density, and it was pulsating, both spheres had some really deep emotional, or spellbinding energy to them. They emitted a powerful hermaphroditic energy, and it was so sudden I didn't have time to even react to it.

It was the most beautiful ufo and only, "something like that I had" to this date, but it told me 'secret' and it’s almost hard to get the words out but it told of the Runes, ancient symbolism, misconception and the divine unity of all things. Which is why I’m sharing this, the—

Hopi Myth of The Red And Blue Kachina. Not many sources online for the topic, I was told my story by my grandfather, so here’s a video.

This was rather thunderstricking, and mystifying as a kid, love the contents and wisdom of the story.

…

https://youtu.be/fjq7BRFRO04
 —

That of which, is merely, sincerely an ampley, iotæ of aotea— inning it limbless, voiceless heiresses rode upon the twilight suelthe of our own — Earth and Humanities contact with the Creator Beings. I’m not going to speak the names of the civilizations or extraterrestrial beings, but out of respect for what I saw that night, well just call it God and Man sanctified in the realization of our ‘blind beliefs’, which I don’t follow.

I’ll stop there.

The thought is much to explain...

(More in part two.)

This jacket is the weirdest part of the story…

Very nice lady at a festival gave it to me.