Storms Beauty

Thunder starts, the rocking rumbling rolling, sparking lightings’ glory to crackle through the clouds full with rains’ precipitation.. storming skies within our eyes of seeing waters drop from the skies.. squeezed out, by all the racket, and electricity wringing out.. bolts, flashes and crashes in the distance, storming out, the rain cries on panes below… waters pouring down, all around, wrung out from pressure built over times of our lives.. clouds, floating about, ready to move past, or rain upon the mass below.. dropping all extracted from clouds not knowing they’re full of it, unleashed to fury all below, or drench their parched lands with floods scoring the grounds… welcome sight to some, relief is insight… weights, and barrages of cursing falling upon the unrest…

Rains crashing, or dripping down, different casualties of differing wars, of tug of wars between temperatures and prevailing winds… love lands on its shores, spurning growths to its bellows, and floods the crevices worn over times’ beatings to accumulate more… flowing down the gullies to rain havoc further down the line… tears, from upstairs, clouding on our horizons, awaiting to dump a deluge when timing is right for the pouring.. out of waters, feelings, thoughts and knowings… of almosts and what ifs.. of whys and what fors… questions and answers pouring from the head, jarred loose by accumulations of held-back befores… not knowing, they’d be back for more.. another time, another place, building clouds of rains to come, we hustle about our ways.. bustling bustles of framework to keep from dragging our downs on the grounds.. of friends and lovers, children and scores, of outsiders, awaiting our thunder and lightning, or watering their shores.. tides come in and go out, as do clouds in skies and eyes of feelers… feeling the angst, building envy, and thoughts shut-in.. souly expressed in a thought.. awaiting another time, another storm to arise on the horizon, not observing we’re making the clouds…

Now The Man is making clouds.. on the outside now.. sprays of a different course and nature, meant to contain the structure.. natures’ flow being blocked, by beings of masonic rituals.. men of befores, conditioned by their ancestry’s doctrines of magi’s in the know.. know of what they think, that is.. making beliefs physical realities, not knowing, they continue to believe.. and prove its proof… alas, conquering one-siders continue their prowess, in back rooms, bored rooms, incorporating our flowerings’ demise… directing our consciousness’ traffic now, to their teachings and understandings, imposing their rule without permission.. making, and taking the rules to their limits.. limited by only their imaginations, delusions of ways paved, unsourced materialists, weighing our ways… smogging the skies, tearing our eyes, and corrupting hers.. foul in the air, stench in the water, manipulating foods and making their own source.. not the way, of ebb and flow, tides gone out of them, never to return to us…

wars and battles in many ways, some unseen in bellows of the individuals, between sister and brothers, on the ground, in the air, heading for space, to make another place.. meant to contain and hold, what already isn’t theirs, or ours.. spats splitting and making betweens.. be tweens of living, and dying, never advancing, stagnate in their projections.. of holding down, and keeping a lid on it.. creating a new universe, in their image… here we grow again.. rumors of wars, unseen til real eyes cast their gaze to knowing, not be lie living.. not living, merely survivors, of waves that keep crashing from their demise… one, theirs.. vision to hold the world in their hands.. One, us.. picking up their pieces rather than making our owns.. and blind were given sight.. by the seer.. that continues to grow within the continual wakening up…

spells, news from fakes, shells of humans getting paid for their scores.. on mass consciousness, and its beliefs and roars for more.. splitting parties, families and countries, one vessel at a time.. picking them off, and picking them up, bused to different perceptions and locations.. in their heart and soul, never realizing that they’re being controlled.. manipulations on magnanimous scales, imprison the sovereign within each.. making idols, heroes, winners and losers, and assuming the fluff contained within it all.. all conglomerations, of lords, rulers and creators, of what we see and get.. laid out before us in savory bites, to continue the chewing on.. shadows playing in the light, light played as a shadow, vessels of no containment of their own.. swallowed up into the pride and prejudice, and taking sides and demanding scores play their parts.. in plays, orchestrated by primitive spiritual natures of the human beast.. some always wanting to rule others, that don’t comply with their conventional thinking.. spreading their veiled garbage to the collectors below… sealing the containers in their convictions, making convicts, of individual seeking.. winning the wars, and going for more, the manipulations continue, bringing the watchers into the opera.. theatre of battles, on every plane and frequency, to heard, felt and touched, by the spiritual soldier.. tyre of battles, the dying and games, trudging on through the muck and mire.. gaining faint glimpses of areas not corrupted.. the higher marches on, to bigger and brighter skies.. start with the tainting, and undo all that has been laid out..

natural storms, of anticipation and seasonal flows within the heir of their existence.. unnatural storms, of condemnation and nightly shows.. of their heirs, and what they lay upon errors of hours.. conditions of a humans’ kind, unnatural except to its own kind.. relevance, teaching to relevant, matters which require your pointed interests.. pointed by the finger-pointers, not by fingered incarnated visions of what really is.. points of view, to opinioned fact makers, clouding our view, and making it storm all over the land.. one against another, no commonality.. what they preach, at its core, values no more, solely choir preaching to the scores of those wanting more… quiet the storm, get into the eye.. seeing the flying debris that surrounds all.. all your own identity, own thought, owned mind.. unravel the beast, stop the judging, blow up the silos, of outside chatter.. be the storm, awaiting the matter, in which builds the brew the chatter, inside talking back, to an egotistical maniac.. be, the clouds, clouding matter and building up the layers.. be, the rain, drops in falling matters, releasing their ways.. be, the lightning, in a vessel, breaking and striking all unurtured one-sided developments.. storms on the horizon, as never before.. under control of Self, not others after the controls… no more stopping at false flags and rabbit holes made by institutions.. digging now, souly by owns’ design… scape the garden, remove topical manures, shoveled by fishers of emotional contacts, conducting searches of pushing and prodding.. sage the vessel, remove and clear missed understandings.. scribe the details, forge the scores, of battles won within.. the no trespassing, of outer opinions outside your orb.. stop the taking-in mores, of bread crumbs given whored.. chase the core, of the proposed truth if you dare, leaving minds’ eye to focus on the moor.. contents, contained within the vessel, adding pieces to puzzles of your design.. not designed by outside candies of drama, wash communications’ mouth with soap and water.. strip it to the core, of their matter, does it require you to keep digging, asking for more… here we grow again… another storm manifesting…

beauty, within, thine eye of the beholden…

beauty, without, soul reflections of contents within..

storms, within, beholden to thine eye… never held for long..

storms, without, reflecting inner contents, within the soul…

storms beauty coming and going.. rising, falling, steaming, blowing the lids off containers, and flooding the lands with rejuvenation blessings… storms growing unleash eventualities, so-called events, normal within cycles.. stop stopping the cycles.. let it pour, unleash the fury, slowly loosen the feeling.. a moment, one come and gone, as a season, for a reason, for the knowing.. shed, use the key, and open the abyss, with a kiss, in search of its sleeping beauty.. within.. a tower.. awaiting a savior, to see what was the matter… calm the storm, coming around the bend.. see the beauty, in the storming… weathering us, and all, to cry over the spillage, or use the water to seed growths.. beauty inside and all around, for the knowing…

 

 

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