residing in this sanctuary that we rightly call the mother: earth

The right time to write is now.
I think of the inhuman implants leached onto organs that might sway my mood, turn it this way or that. Then feeling my eyes slowly close and my guides telling me: we will take care of that, we will take care of that, I sit back and relax.
Back to the channel of creative force I turn, creativity is a feminine thing but you must balance it out with the masculine. Save your procrastination for a hot summer’s day and create I say.
Residues of prescription medication and recreational drugs that tampered with my delicate chemistry are leaving. Reality is crisp after the cleansing, I see that the plants nearby are alive, at night they are breathing slowly, their metabolism is light.
Alcohol is absolutely not on the present list and for weed there is no need.
I think of the extraterrestrial ships that encircle the earth, they hover sometimes on the inner plane, I ask the beings to reveal themselves, depending on whether or not I see each thing as a manifestation of God that is. Water I drink is alive.
I am not insane but loose, ready to shake the foundations and send sparks bouncing off the walls, listening to the streets over and over again.
There shall be no more talk of war, or death, no more words of pain or loss, no suffering.
There shall be dancing on holy ground only. All ground is holy.
Through the meridians of the body energy flows free, there is a quickening of blood through this psychical vessel, this temple.
To be alive, to be aware of this gift, to know this pleasure, to realize this abundance, that is my intention.
They say: we will take care of that, we will take care of that.
Sit back and relax.

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