Crimson, like rubies scattered across the dirt.
The rain causing them to glisten.
This blood we've spilled, swallowed into the earth once again...
and what have we learned, or shown, or begotten.
The casting of spells, of stories, of endless talks,
filling up the silence with mindless and numb accounts of days past.
And who are we now, in this age, in this season...
but more of who we have always been.
Will we ever change, or get cultivated into the truths of what we are.
Will we see what we could be, could reach, could grow into.
A place we could grow wild, without being tamed by the blades of machinery.
A place not burdened by premature pruning and clipping and tearing asunder.
To let ourselves grow into all that is possible...without someone to say otherwise.
Without someone to make our yards pristine, our minds cut short and proper.
What about the wildness of our nature frightens you so.
Let us be free.
We can do better when we know better.
And how do we know better if you've made us into a crop. Cropped.
Let us be free.
There is no fear in grand oak trees, or the majesty of stars.
No hate in the leaves of fall or the sprouting of an acorn.
No pain in the wind, or the embrace of the moon.
Let us be free.
from the letting of blood, from the tilling of our souls, from being conquered.
Let us grow free. See what we'll be.
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I might be showing up here more often..
its a showing up thing...
might as well...
all that time I struggled with meditation consistency...well, I decided not to do that anymore
and so I do it daily now...and going through the gateway process again.
Which is good...although, I'm eager to get to the good levels, lol
... the good levels, as in the point where I see the future and shit.
I can do that sometimes, but it got super weird there for awhile last time I did these tapes.
All the stuffs... and I have nothing else to tell today...
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