Where you’ll be, eventually, is on the need-to-know basis of availability, for your eyes only, should we finally awaken and rub our sleepy eyes to the surprised amazement of the stores, storing questions raised within boxes of perspectives, and not from outside them, looking in.
Where are you now, do you really know, who You are right now? Weren’t you a little different before? Wouldn’t your perspective, questions, and opportunities differ year to year, or from dusk until dawning if a new or full moon, shadowing us around, and never asking when the moon, Solstice, or shadows die…within vessels with questions, emotions, and knowledge built up over times, seeking more opportunities to fill empty areas, not previously filled, remaining the hunger growing the will to succeed where the intellect has previously falled them.
Where are you now, when you leave this contraption built over a lifetime from borrowed nuts and bolts of personal gnosis. Where are you now, and Who are you when your physicality is removed, and all You have left is its contents, spilled out to escape a previously caged environment to a simple awareness, that containers eventually whither away, allowing their occupant to escape the captivity, of thoughts and mind perculating, rather than resting in the moment, of where they are, and what they’ve become, and where to go from here. Awaiting the Messiah outside Self to deliver and resurrect what should have been placed to rest in us long ago…before contemplating another level, or understanding, while not becoming Light, as a feather not scaled or measured, or weighed by bodily functions, mannerisms, and conditions affecting behaviors of humans asking questions, forms still held-down by measures, formed into analyis from intellectual achievements and emotional stifleness.
What happens to you, for the remainder of your life? Do you, will you know of next year, before it occurs? Isn’t each One’s a different reality, dependant upon where the psyche currents? Yours and my next year, next insight, feeling, impression, expression will not the song remain the same…
Flowers, growing, bulbing, branching out, or decaying, withering, and contaminating the growing field of the rest of us, Her vines grow among the weeds, through the thickets, and wrap around to stretch and grow, eventually sufficating statutory ones, structures, buildings, devices, decaying bodies, graves of buried ones and thinkings…overgrowth, decay, and mulch made from transforming previous zombies’ bodies back to their original essence, prior to becoming mere carriers, containers, not feeling emotions but carrying them and forming them as questions, never developing emotions to blossom over it’s containment, and self-absorbsion of how their story ends…before finishing the homework, lesson, and test. Only then, can it be graded, learned, and be known what was missed and requires clarification, or is graduated to higher understandings.
What will, is yours and ours, to will as we can, should, or provide the fire to get the engine within started if need be, and keep it going. Happen, is an occurrance, typically once, an event, something to change the course, or concrete its building. When, an if, a maybe, a should, or a later scene, that develops from thoughts of conditioning, of not Being in the moment, to gain momentum. We, an objective collection of characters, and whom is included typically from this generality of inclusiveness of one collective understanding, differing from others, not of we. Dying, to the practice of silos of beliefs, teachings, and preachings of previous understandings, as mass is not an appealing trait to follow it’s logic. Asking when, when we are dying everyday, but not owning it.
Awakened from the dream of being stuck in a construct, constrained by containment and not freed by the knowledge of it, the Sleeper arises and floats above the scene to observe the wreckened conditioned of the souless body laying in it’s last position, never mutable to spiritual awakening, now physical matter(s) become evanescent.
When the true spirit is raised, isn’t it born again, and living, not like before, when dead in a body, but released from suffering, and reaching for unfoldment as a newborn, absent of containment, just living to grow, until reaching maturity, or to remain fallen, defaulting into recycling, following gods and demons, or keep growing without preconceptions of previous fallen ones who keep attaching to what was left behind.
Dream, fantasize, doing as thou wilst while morally sound, strengthening roots and stocking warmth, joy, and love to spill all about, forever opening prescence, not perceiving an end in sight. Ends are for stopping, starting over, or turning around and going the right way. Go your owned way, until your stopped in your tracks, with a continual awareness of opportunities that abound to change your course, development, or perspective to raise the questions…most are dead, until and unless alive is raised and maintained within, and forged to meet the higher One, previously not worth giving the time of day to such a stray below…surface dwellers, never going below, to check conditionings manifesting into emotions, and staying within materialistic lanes, until realizing their path ends, the end of the madness becomes the question…what happens after all of this, my frantic running around, and purpose…never questioning themselves, before now.