Loving Mothers

Mother’s Day, is always here with us, never leaving before nurturing loved ones and gluing all together with a passion that always begins and never ends to make us better grown ups.  Birth of love and devotion always returns to its roots to care for its outcomes…

Do children really know what’s Given, when ones’ essence is forged from its belly for an uncomfortable eternity to finally give excruciating pain away to a crying baby that eminates from her essence that delivers innocence into a chaotic world that only begins her suffering, taken on whole-heartedly and committed to a life that provides a security blanket of warmth to its nurtured ones that never fully acknowledge or embrace Her devotion, sacrifices, and courage.  Continually taking challenges and obstacles to task, as the tasks continually out-weigh the Mother whom sees none when looking into a babe’s eyes that only see Her, as nothing exists, outside survival, in a world where only a Lover and her offspring exist.

From birth throughout life, children grow up to routinely make life more difficult than it need be to the One that always tries to make life more satisfying and less trying for all others at Her anguished expense. Day after day, months to years, to life’s endearment, when considered, in which their all was formed, raised, learned, contrived, compromised, suffered, and strained into what they’ve become…from whining, stinking diapers, to whining stinkers, to occasional whiners that love, lose, and win, and begin to realize who and what they’re made of, and recognize a Mother… where loins grow and come from, and become lives… filled with tribulations, joys, loss, and recovery, to future fathers and Mothers…that began as Lovers, when two fragile, innocent eyes looked into the eyes of its Mother for the very first time, and pierced her soul, to always hold their shared essence forever, gently, in caring arms that nurture creativity and matures the growth given and received by both.

Nature is deemed Mother as it provides and sustains life. Naturally, Moms bare and bore our brunt unconditionally, to provide the best opportunities for little ones to raise themselves successfully, into grown ups.

Whether expressed verbally, or not, children care to return gratitude, thanks, and loving appreciation of the heroin that never gets called out for giving everything to us…

Thank you, Happy Mother’s Day 💕💐


*although we don’t have a role model, truth is evidence that no belief is necessary, and may not be veiled to Sparks void of darkness projected or beaten into them by others.







Happy Bday, wtf?

Why would those “closest” to me, wish celebration of the body, its mindset, it’s current predicament, when time and bodies, and such wished happy thoughts are temporary, decaying, and aging…as such remarks and comments from those whom “know me”.  Farcical, at best, knot to offend the feelings of surface dwellers, that you love.  How may One break it to them, that such thoughts are dark, fallen into egotistical patterns that pave ways to staying there…in a mindset void of Spark or the highest Self.  Things as these, may not be relayed, without bending and breaking their emotional development, and rules layed down by religious masculine clowns disguised as repeaters, followers, and accepted religions that hold belief systems past their prime into dogmatism for the deranged minds caught dreaming of lesser gods that never release them from captivity.

Seems best to cut the chord, with blood relatives who put on physicality and wear topical impressions around, sharing beliefs they’re living, without spiritual question.  Psyche’s are stuck in the dark, shedding their perceived light upon others.  Sirius lies, not just in alignments and stars above, but in a half-full, half-truth outlook towards masculine-held mansions awaiting them in heaven, a home for their Sol to come home to someday… Maybe it’s best, to let the darkness play with it’s kind, and stop kneeling to their level, just to get along…

The offense taken, for pointing out the darkness they live, a slap in their face, they feel, for wishing One the best birthday, and receiving no thanks in return.  Guess it goes from losing friends, to now losing loved ones, who thought they knew me…and got an earful of suffering to humanity since birth instead.

Sorry doesn’t go very far, to an obscure one of higher Ones, ones with foundations  built, and in-place, reaching out to those that destroyed any they previously believed, or built up within long ago. What is age, when time does not exist, cept in a believers’ mindset to materialize their matters into reality. What is to condone or personally congratulate, when homelessness, poverty, wars, and propoganda suffers more than befores. I am, or aren’t I, as the suffering in them is me, or does it separate me to celebrate feeling good about not feeling for the least of us. I am, or knot. Or I am whom they wish to fit into structures that concrete clipped wings into surface dwellers that corrupt their highest Self… and wonder why those such as me aren’t on board with insanity repeating itself, but they’re the ones knot listening. Empaths keep getting crushed with words cast out, and cry their eyes wide open, they just don’t keep it in for long, as true considerations from true lovers would never allow for such hatred to go on. Sensitivities feel what is seen, and view what is felt, controlling the flow when desiring so, but not to keep or guard, merely to play with energies humans deem emotional developments.

Stifle the reasoning, with the unreasonable ones…just be quiet and welcome more suffering; a loved one doesn’t know you, nonsense attempting a real relationship; go through nonsensical notions or break away and bruise hearts; and survive, in the quiet, of the crowded noises, whispers, and rumors that brand you less than them…wtf, happybday, aren’t we just humans anyway.

It was once asked of our deviance, how we would describe ourSelf, answered back in the exhale, “that we make others uncomfortable…with themselves”. What other reply may be given, or perceived by others, when foundations, consciousness, and realities reside in different planes of existence, thinking, and beliefs. Who gets to decide…who and what is acceptable, and what is real, when only fragments are being developed in human heads.

Some bodies celebrate their birthing achievements, while some settle-in to a masculine world and join in the building of structures, beliefs, and systems.  ones look on…wondering what experiences, fables, and stories bodies tell when spirit is abandoned for personal triumphs, wallowing in suffering, or trapped in psyches that won’t allow spiritual maturity. Nothing against any one, just not in our Stars to keep our thoughts and prayers on ground dwellings that keep you there… remaining grounded to Her, we sprout up and out amongst the weeds in their fields, plowing through their bs and cracking religious foundations spun by storytellers to capture perceptions to follow faithfully, rather than spiritually. 

Do they celebrate life, accomplishments, or as group reflections the individual…did they forget, or not realize, the human is an unholy mess, that fell from grace, due to it’s desire to stay there, in its desires and pride? Why would one not of materialities celebrate such unholiness, year after year…

In the Beginning, was only another fabricated lie that scripted minions to follow and bow to nonsensical priests that rape their congregations routinely, physically, with little boys, and mentally, with so-called grown ups that look the other way when preachers are demons in the midst of innocence, and fanatics are mainstream. Relevance is beholden their faiths, not truths, as hypocrisy evidences their living, and lying, to themselves and others who don’t believe in words and a world scripted before we got here…

There exists no beliefs, when a humans’  existence hindges on believing what keeps lying to them from previous ages now used as ulterior motives for approval to commit atrocities.

When egos lie down their heads, maniacs walk through their dreams, thinking the maniacs are the ones they look at, when reflection obscures itself from dreamers seeing themselves as heros slaying their Selves.  Spirit doesn’t walk, believe, or fantasize what gets played out in deranged minds that think they may stabilize and be comforted with psychotic tendencies that promote abuses to empaths whom don’t believe in anything except morals and consideration of others whom don’t consider any outside their own beliefs.

Pick a side, a religion, a view, belief, or structure…man made it all, submissing  feminine and corruption follows his saints, prophets, and followers to the end of their lines. Humans, that believed they were doing the right thing, telling fables and stories to children who grew up with false perceptions of reality.  Now pointers, accusers, dictators, abusers, and destroyers that convulse the rest in Us to celebrate in their corruptions. To support another state, of conscious, when hypocrisy rules, meets the definition of insane…but I Am deemed the crazy, potential suicidal maniac… that makes them uncomfortable to realize that they are more than they think, or celebrate. 




Numbers play a Roll

23.38 to 11 a number to a  figure, infinity smiles to One, in the end of that moment of seeing the conceived counted time, not real, solely the lampost it points to, humans’ time out thrown out the window and just noticing tricks to Pavlov’s dogs…not a humane invention afterall. Not for keeping on-track, but riding on rails of your own making and choosing when loosened from it’s containment.

Observer wheys in ever-so-lightly, as a feather, to unveil different directions and opportunities for advancement, not as a trained dog but as in a feline’s stalking, one paw in front of the other perceiving next moves based on perceptions of where and how the perception oversees the direction, not being directed or cohersed into one lane, but the entire field in which to all comings and goings, narrowing the view to potential futures…

Equinox comes to flow evermore through the Deeps’ manipulations of clouds, skies, and artificial weather in concentrated places with views that don’t suit you.  All done to no avail, as veils don’t hide in lies, truth does.

Newborn queens and crowns to kings too noble to wear them, from now on… As the Deep curses Sparks within the unjoined to propoganda and wars on its citizens’ integration into systems of mass destruction, annihlation of such in our past psyche now.  Weeding continues to grow in their fields, of flowers from another Mother,  but still a brother, lightened by the darkness growing in them, and staying in our own fields, of subtle energy and awareness of all growths and fields of energies, entities…

Harvest keeps routinely occurring, from birth to death, and in-between to keep little ones on track of what’s planted out on airwaves, to grow and fester the mass in lanes on highways to hells of their own followings, and dead ends.  You should be the star in your life, not a supporting actor being played for life, working to support others.  Contrary to mens’ law, corporations are not people.  Supporting Each other, mutual benefit…when mutual is removed, it transgresses work to be profited by a non-performer, a payer, for less than its true worth.   courts don’t acknowledge feelings, nor people, that pay them to treat them that way…when the human doesn’t perform, as they’re made into by a society that forces most into corners, lanes, or best of the worst scenarios.

Spring is growing your persona, gates are opening to flooding, new life is given…or not received, to carry defaults until death departs its makeup, and lives without obligations.  Break them, dams block Flow.


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…