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woe to the children of saturn, stuck in the spiral chained pattern, pained and splattered, the vicars will convince the spirit is matter
you cannot draw division, when its influence has taught us many vision, and detailed many missions.
escape through jupiter, slice the belly of time to understand the rhythm and rhyme, that death is not behest, and this her is not all what is next.
those who hold both, show a door for most, the latter end a parasaite for hosts. be wary of the direction that you row your boat
do not believe all is a dream, actions have consequences and we are all on the same leaf, illusion may saturate, but sifting the waters id the gate

three full moons, each different, each close and soon, and one dying in a checkerboard pattern of gloom.
if beget the curse of heqet, learn the true nature and you shall behest. Spin her husbands wheel, to spurn a new real.
stagnation is the true death, restlessness a powerful hungry guest, balance both and thou will not fret.

machinations of size, creations of demise, war eggregores, sweeping to cause weeping. i saw in awe

the first nosebleed, moving too fast for my own needs, juggling realities, tearing and joining at the seams

breathe water, fly air, dont drown, dont fly too close and dare. Ram on ground, Crow in sky, keep the sound, meet no demise.


where there was darkness and pain, joy and splendor after fell down like rain
learned saturns aims, taught by jupiter the same, sifted the river there and hither, found pieces of gold, after i broke the mold

sink or swim, die or fly, be as snakes as wise, avoid stooping to their sly. be hybrids and see highness. the jounrey never ends, it only continues to begin

you cannot be only light, you are never absolutely right, the grey area can be abused, or used for terra.

the first nose bleed scared me, im practicing control, but everything is changing me whole, ive left my home and do not know where ill go, both balance and swung to and fro, woe to those who think they know, ive been shown the seeds sown, reeds in the field of gears, drops of water in the river of the father.

all realities a wanderer, no comfort of caves, no one to lean on, only spirits to save. escaped a curse, and found a wet nurse, still i wander, until i can create home, a place i can return after i roam.

getting around, still wrapped in physical bounds, i can travel untraditionally, but i long for sights to see, i know the person i will be, calm as a gentle see, busy as a bee. expend all my energy, i long to travel in this reality, tired of missed opportunity only because a lack of money, i will let my creativity unravel as i journey here and between, sheathing my gavel, watching the crumbling of babel, and unification of what was shattered