Mindless zombies, unhinged of the mind to not be present in their matter, it’s capabilities or lacking. Who is the zombie, when awareness is not awakened within the body of their sleepwalking towards coffers of beliefs which buried so many ancestors before them, only to rise again in another time, space, and placement into a body, to sleep some more. Mindless zombies walking towards the light of Sparks, that know they have one, to be devoured, battled, enraged, or remain sovereignly in observance of conditioning that continues to plaque bodies, minds, and spirits, removing individual thought and reasoning into mindless zombies, continuing where they left off, just learning to walk without minding the soul left behind, no longer spiritual in nature, but a by-product of artificial intelligence, and conditioning…
No heart to find in mindless bodies walking around, no minds eye (mine I) to find heartless souls, to find that spirit has temporarily left their inhabitations, until the zombie returns to its senses, previously buried then startled into awakening with no recollections or past memories that it’s been dead and buried for a long time, until dug up through personal experience. A Being, long been buried then awakened from agreeing to materialistic attachments for lifetimes and following their threads to their ultimate conclusions, death parting their prior ways…attachments for lifetimes to archonic vampires advertising their tricks with treats processed to kill you. who’s to say, who’s the zombie anyway.
Halo to Eve, not hallows eve nor pagan practicing, words are spells masking truths within them. Her veil becomes translucent as wonder and folly begins and sustains in the streets. It’s a shame, no one’s looking, busy playing their roles as pawns in projects of overseers. No superstitions, religions, traditions, or beliefs. Not contained by parlor tricks treating physical pleasures with no true fulfillment. Not busy in games to keep them mindless, and making it a commercial success. The living are dying each and every day, to continue dying, or to resurrect and rise to who and what you’re really living for, or believing, that they are playing games, when played under rules, by others… when told it’s allowed, a holiday from your every day, when every other day you’re not allowed to…do Pavlov’s dogs ring a bell of truth, or is that your bell going off?
Always wonder, play, imagine and pretend, not when they tell you to on one night, used for ulterior purposes by some, but in all of your ways, to delight the heart, body, and soul. Live, all ways, not as handed out, but remembering the crypt once buried-in, from behind eyes without a face, behind a mask, maybe not so different than your own. This one puts you in another mindset, cloaked and costumed to observe the ruckus of little ones with hands out, to play your imaginations out…or stick your hand out, for candy made to keep you in the dark and returning back for more handouts when they say it’s a holiday, and you get to pay for the pleasure of artificials intelligently designing you, inside and out, at your owners’ expense.