Thursday, July 13, 2017

Metaphysical Awakening



Open your palms and read those porous lines of all you have been given, dear One. The pearl is at hand and oceanic waves of love pour marrow. These thoughts are yours to render brilliant again. Angels are aimed at you to fill parched and parceled rivulets of reason; for a nu logos is upon us, arrayed in fronds of frost thawing edges with frictionized diction necessary today as to morrow.





Do you tenderize the threads that purl from your head while contemplating life's chord; and in moments of amazement doth thou wonder slightly at the silken shifts of soulware? ...I know I do.
In lamb~like innocence I repent, sending forth glistening skeins awaiting sacrament. Weave your memory with mine as in empathy, isotropy.

Let us listen deeper still to the harmonious stratosphere surrounding body and find in Divine Science our golden hair feathering the fettered mind. For the tiny white dots that speckle space herself show themselves in our recognizing of them as points of luminous reference, exquisite keynotes lining the folded robe of intelligence.

And of this high frequency we have little knowledge; yet can sense and grow towards refinement only as we pull both mercurial and metaphysical qualities through our personal portals of understanding.  Love would not forsake us our inheritance of existential experience, that illusion of separation we cling to like baby to breast.

This is the beginning for many like myself. Yet we are of a lineage of light and have been given innate gifts of sight. Might we use our spiritual skulls to seek and speak the word of Life more readily, unabashedly, and fervent in our ferocity against scientific evidence of ignorance, lacking prose, scrolls, and mist.

The archetypal arts are our bridge between earth and heaven, riddled with confounding fecundity at first and second glance, so we find our faculties of third eye revealing cohesive strands of great mystery beginning to braid beauty's story. May our minds intersect again as accumulating debris illumine organically. 

                                                                           ~ Psyche, Sincerely

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