What Do We Know

Your lower mind, should you decide to accept it, and if it’s not too far gone already, debates to remain in captivity of the temporary, or stay rooted in elementaries.  Form in the realm of constant change, while remaining the subtle body within, etherical that resides wherever it likes, inside, when storms rise into conditions to suffer, the Resider observes the comings and goings.  One of its limbs, one of the branches of a tree, when grown into matter rather than abstaining from it except to survive within its environment, transplanted but knowing, it leads your growing.  Grow out, towards, or against the wind…or become the prevalent within.

Equinox Springs into precession as Moon glows to Feelers below begin to internalize the swelling of an upcoming Shadow that brings Light to northern lights in a rainbow array of colours to absorb the oncoming resonance that embraces and locks in-place any conceptions of time , but of a space to travel within, an opened door to entertain, a mental state that dissolves current ones, and reality as we don’t know it.

Reach, branch out, above and beyond what you see, not feel inside what you may become.  Growth is a given, fertilized naturally in waves breathed in whole heartfully.  Plant, and grow up…


News Sol deems worthy

Angels in the outfield catch hue’s of men, intending to pitch curves to innocence..Batters unknowing of pitches hurled from Deep fingers of darkened ones now making the news to get behind and follow. Press-on Dear one, as they fear One’s…Children of wonder, playing in the fields of wars and rumors of wars, they opinion into making, with fake views called news.

welcomes of Shadows doesn’t cast as they do, but join the dark to become Destroyer, and keep the kids playing in the fields of wars, void of Deep ones on their missions to close the playground.

Force able winds, strong arm us all down to bow to their gail currents, even as they spite us.  To stay bowed, or agreeing with whats being bellowed out and around.  By manly windbags of political natures, keep fighting, agreeing, or following…These daze, rants and raves, that talking heads perform on camera.

to be, or knot to be, The I in the storm.  Clutter and devastation all thrown about, making a lane as it twists and turns irrationally, it seems.  Except in roots, grounded for life, until death does the body part…as life grows again, transformed, in one matter, or another.  As Spark always rises, from within the sin of body, or without such matter that conceived it to be it’s master.  Until it withers or rots away it’s conditionings, and become the consciousness that transforms wind…into generating power to stretch, bend, and break while you’re One with it, not fighting against its might.

In the wind, I become, to rampage about, making all surface dwellers run for shelter.  From north-winded snow capped mountains, to blow through tranquil scenarios.  Comfort Souly resides where comforted, no respector of a humans conditions.  Breathe in and be airborne again, into the wind of transformations, if you choose to accept the bottom line…Being, of what runs through them, naturally.  Pollen, and life source also breeze through, change, and rearrange life and death, on the surface of earth, and it’s heirs.


Nature is Wild…You May Be Too

Wild Horses, couldn’t drag me away, from Loving you… frolicking in the snow and letting go to be with your own. The Flow in you, feels in us too, as hearts sync in the strides and gates of trotting, cantor, and explore…reins, barns, and confines allow empathy in to sense the wonder, loosened of all restraints, and never looking back, studs become stallions and mares keep the peace, nurturing and teaching the entire herd, and all who care.

Deeper, kinder, gentler, to watching and sensing and seeing the Flow, and in that, we all become, when we’re in the same place…in the moment of wondering, exploring, playing as children when curfew is for kids…rules and containers, propaganda named news, wars, and rumors of wars, all lost and not worth their weights fighting for on subconscious observances, routinely darkened and corrupted… All dissolve when observing horses, flowing, loosened, from being told or directed, just acting naturally…as an opening flower, the sight sensed by Spark, shared between and within all resonating, to stop and join the beat, sensed, watching nature play out…

Beyond physical evidence, the proof is in the heart of a matter. Only felt, sensed, seen, touched, and desiring more to keep flowing… at this moment, and in this one, the Spark inside remains the same, when allowed out to sing out from within. Sparks fly, wondering in higher realms, consciousness changes when jailed to suffer consequences, conditions, and unfairs… Cept when let out, to be yourSelf, and wonder why we keep returning to the farm, to be caged, raped and pillaged mentally again, rather than remain…Wild Horses, Forever gallantly prancing in a flow of our own, rather than congested and mutated by governing parties outside, beneath our upper development… in cages of their own, most unknowingly.

May the wild or natural be contained, as whip marks evidence themselves everywhere when whipped into civil obedience, socially climbing and conversing, broken wills now paid by their own expense, in debtors’ prisons of another archons’ making, out in the open, and borrowed upon, with interest. While Sparks recall Wild Horses, freed from captivity, of any controls to be themSelves just playing around, freed of a Being, being a gelding, and coming into their owned awareness of whom they really are…and how the wild may provide a wink of understanding that fits the heart within vessels that ponder upon deeper matters.

As we watch a Herd of Horses,
From a glance to a stare, to a Feeling, into a Connection.
Fillies and Colts, never growing old playing around their wonderment.
Hearts and Minds within One, when looking on, at them.
Grow to One within All, when observing what’s flowing,
In a moment when moments count but time checks out of awareness.
In moments when none exist, as only here and now are real for now,
To hearts that still feel, when filled by mere sights, of Wild Horses, in snow-covered meadows, no longer pretending, from bridled passions of barn-sour demeanors, to a love that comes from the releasing of chains, coming into their own, when finally let go, and unleashed of their masters…
A Mass of Vessels,
Feelings when and if Connected,
Disconnected, Roped and Herded again…
Ropes and threads into their heads, tied-up in knots, never leaving prisons and cells for long, but for spells.
Domesticated Spirits, haltered from bridled passions,
Of heavenly abodes that don’t contain, but states that exist above and within bliss, that spread the love to those who fall into mans kind… and raise awareness with simple views, of Wild Horses, in nature and you, connecting our instinctual awe of another loving being, in love with the awe that connects, the untamable Spark, that never goes out, within the presence of All finding connection in simple awareness, of what connects us. Let each dawn start from there, and start over again when caged or rounded up from thinking and playing in greener pastures that don’t require boots to walk through… but along bubbling brooks, and sun-kissed rays, that welcomes our flow, and begs we stay.

Puppets In Charge

The Puppeteer, as some suggest of the Highest Self…oh, yea little ones… Making soul contracts from your highest observation deck is a farce. stating that your highest puts its lowest in particular scenes of suffering and poverty remains nonsensical, as others put their puppets in luxury positions to suffer their consequences…what madness this conceives, not of we…just be love, they, say…Siriusly? Break down the stars above your reference points, Dear ones, and stop being conceived. Sirius lies, in beltways fighting in Orions’ skies and ours. These mediums’ convulsion are toxic to some, sending it down the line to become the newest discovery to grasp. Take note, your Highest doesn’t go for rides, or join them, as sovergnty doesn’t need its inner highest disclosed, It knows it…Self nous.

Consider your Inner Utmost wishing its vessel suffer, while watching-on, seems unfathonable to One. Empathy will suffer to assist another, or for the greater good to be sure, but not due to its Self, but because it’s the right thing to do. Suffering and poverty remains never correct nor acceptable…blasphomy mans’ prophets and religion, does not “matter”, as it is not morally correct to allow pain and suffering to proposedly learn lessons or payback distractions and previous life actions. What good All, if One is left behind, or at ones’ physical expense? not of we, in thee. alterior motivations, from higher, but darkened places unseen then transmitted through un-Ones. Those displacing knowing, with being told, then telling the rest to jump onboard the bus. As He said, wipe your feet of them, and move on. no judgement, not of we…this entity, the following humans will find they’ve called alien before.

So let be, in Mary’s backyard… Perceive the voids..what does the channeling not contain..nurturing, love, patience. Puppeteers don’t nurture but direct and point out, as puppets can’t feel, or sense. Feel, their intentions. they have roles, but they’re not keys to treasure, but of waves and vibes from another that travel about. Does your Highest feel? The puppets are traveling, beating to a distant drum, but not from within, but as being pointed towards, from a unseen direction talking through another. Where is its Source? Why so many obstacles and puppets that keep One from getting close to their source? Your Highest wants you close, to cuddle and love, as these do not, and will never be close to Thee…you’re reaching again, digging and analyzing what will remain outside you. They’re lightening waves and vibes of little ones, and it works for them. In the end, the entities are comingling consciousness. They will be a we, of an artificial kind, unless they decide to get out.

Good intentions help All, so all good, just not Higher as asked, or as teachers profess. Temperature gauges, colours, and feelings from Deep within seek permanence-within of ever-changing environments without, here, or Higher. Flow is the soul-survivor, let go, below, back to Her, start from your Seat. A hint of Love, and valadation, not for one in a humans’ scent, but in Love beheld by All within their prescence of Highest. Present, in the moments, in a Lovers’ embrace that All may feel, when desire is true to Highest Self, with you now, three feet behind, or all around, or above and beyond bodily functions…this is the lowest, your Highest should ever contemplate…


Once ascended, only fallen may descend… loosening or wickening spirit of divinity. Satan never ascends, or does he keep climbing, then falling, over and over again… nor Christ descend, as how may divinity lower itself to corrupt levels? Divinity doesn’t look down, upon peoples, beliefs, or perspectives, only darker may be lightened to higher, only lighter may darken to lower, fallen, or resurrect transformed to rise again. Heaven is within, or knot, residing with angels or demons or somewhere in-between, lost and alone, stolen or abused, or full of what physicality is absorbed and contained from outside sources.

When in their still, still is lost and alone. Sovereignty saves, but not in ways scriptures say. Consciousness will remain long after sermons, judgments, prophets, killers, and raptures are made…repeated for hundreds of years by those who don’t seek higher, or lower, than masculine words written to subserve femininity, rape and pillage all who won’t believe in such psyop’s of Waring tribes that keep starting and maintaining wars, and rumors of wars, then, say they told us so… booked in religions, to believe rather than know, the Messiah awaits, not on one side, or another, not with one tribe, or another, not through Vatican interpretation nor locked in their Alexandria library.

Following beliefs, prophets, guru’s, and one-sided manly thinkers who keep refusing to nurture the mass that worships their teachings, ministers, and Popes. Overturn the money-changers, cast out the priests and their indoctrination, of any institutional mindset, as no form, concept or perception remains immortal…Souly sovereignty, the Spark within that keeps getting the shaft, and held back, bore to suffer, and remain in the dark…while its temple and psyche is trashed, brain-washed, raped and pillaged, and enslaved by demons who keep repeating… words and stories, parables and prophesy, written by false fathers, who won’t leave the rest in us alone…

The Virgin Mary, innocence stripped away and stoned by the village idiots, who keep believing news stories ruled by archons, and their followers…keeping the mass from rising, by veiling divinity, in corrupted scriptures, religions, beliefs, and systems that keep all contained in their mindsets…and blaming, waring with all the rest who don’t believe, as they do…that to believe is divine.

Silly boys, tricks are for kids. Cowgirl Up, and stop preaching the faith believed in writings, but live your existence in the moral divine, nurturing and loving your resonates, and willfully fighting to stay the constant Lover, not controlling, but dishing it out when needed, as roses too have thorns when not treated respectfully, while ready to endure the world that doesn’t respect girls, and allows priests to rape their boys, while grown men with no quinones look on…then tell others how to act.  Hypocrisy is in-charge, all about making, breaking, and corrupting our wonderings.  So saddle-up your will, and ride the range as a loving rancher…naturalist, behavioralist, feeding and nurturing more than itself, and loving every moment worth dying for…a Life of no illusions, nor belief systems.



As Eye Walk Thru The Valley of Death…

The Traveler, coming and going, visiting and exploring differing destinations, cultures, and people.  Some family, some friends or enemies, they decide now.  But continually traveling through this world in walks of life, cars, scars, planes, manes, minds, dreams, and subtle bodies we continue the flow or stop it.  Traveling to different countries, and states of governing places, and conscious awareness of the Traveler.

Love to Go,
And Embrace All to Experience and Explore.
Love the Flow,
When Embracing is Felt, Tasted, and Sensed.
But Love Comes, and Stays, Wherever I AM,
And Loves Arriving Home to Where It All Began,
A Place Within, At-Home, a Today to Start From,
A Tomorrow to Travel to,
The Cycle Never Ends…Within Hearts… the Size, Shape, and Bliss yours contains…within You.

Sparks always kindle…when known, to heat the inner cauldrons, or within others unknowingly, to dormancy and extinguishing, as some never return their kindling…

Ye, as we suffer through this Valley of Death, pray Keep Spark lit for deeper, higher, darker, lighter events.  As illusions of humans bombard like waves against the shored sanded in their positions…

Travelers observe, feel, connect, disrupt, destroy, and Love as they grow.  Never settling, threading, but tyre to be anchored ashore of Sparks’ flow…by human endeavors below their true Selves… Easier said, than done they say… Only when perspectives and opinions from below intervene and get into your way, of the divine nature of sovereignty…No images, threads, nor golden cows, but souly Spark may be held onto…the rest are outside, trying to get into our multiverse.

Apprehension, of what may, or not come or may be diagnosed, found, ached or benign, Souly brings physical attractions and distractions that test fortitudes of fallen Sovereignty…physical developments are secondary primary thoughts… don’t get caught up within them, as ailments start in thought, if not checked at your minds’ door. only allow only divine into your Temple of worship…cast out the human unrest that tests Sparks awareness… 🙏



Mourning A Passing Teaching

The Sol gains Release, As the lower, contained bodies grieve their loss,
Remaining the ones at a loss, of an identity and loved one.
Her Persona lives on, Dear Ones, to sing, teach, and reach for the stars now.
Nothing left behind to hold down a Spirit of Her callaber,
Released of physical chains that suffer, hurt and harm bodies,
But enable the inner Spark to reach Higher than ever before.
Resting in peace, within each and every thought and memory of Her.
Not that contain, but Remind All of Us To Reach Higher.

A teacher, a colleague, friend.  Closer than a peer, Deeper feelings cannot contain them, so they express themselves in bubbling suppressions that leak out, first from our eyes, then as our hearts swell to strengthen intensity, from drops of tears to the density made in the years of knowing Her…and being  blessed to have been in the presence of the Love and Nurture that drew us closer to Her empathys’ grace to take time out of her precious days, to make time to be a part of ours.

An embrace of Another, Felt to Remain, Within, Forever.

As Her Gift was Herself, Keeping It Real, in a Loving Way to Make Us All Want to be Better, each in our own unique way.

She was brought into our lives, as no coincidence, but as a Teacher of an outer expression, of Spirit and Higher Thought that strives for more within each one of us.

Taught with heart, from a Sol that could never be contained to speak out what was right.  Thoughts, memories, and emotional developments rise to surface whenever we consider Her, as she would never pass a student or friend, who didn’t study for the test or exam, that came to announce her passing…A Loving Sol that never failed us, but raised us All to be Stars in our own rite.  We are brighter and smarter because of Her.  Inside and out, we are stress due to Her, that stretches us.

Impressions left to swell, wake, and break upon shores that feel the loss of part of them that left earlier than expected.  Just like Her teachings, exceeding our expectations, and causing us to pause, when we don’t have higher expectations that She helped raise within ourselves.