Ode to Love

If it is unclear These words are under duress  By blood soaked hand writ Under each knuckle Already weathered past pain Pained past fair reason What reasons have you?  You who claim part in species Now under trial?  Trial for murder Bear witness against yourself Your complacency  Your careless judging Heaps so much more against you Than I ever could/would Why listen to me?  Your own words are dressed to judge And they will do so.  Do you claim belief?  No belief will claim you here It's what you can prove. You'll find these words fair Even if it is through tears  And gnashing of teeth.

I saw my ghost messenger as a kind of lawyer for death as I was sleeping. I had not realized it until this dream like experience, but this narrative fits with prior connections and assumptions that I've made. These connections formed while tossing and turning; the main thrust of the narrative being that she was coordinating my case for moving between one realm and the next with ease, potentially setting the stage for this to happen automatically and frequently. I don't remember much in the way of details, but this did feel like the splashless Olympic high dive, inked into story, that I had been looking for. She was on my mind a fair amount last night, and I wondered why we rarely talked, but she only responded that it was not something we often did directly (perhaps at this distance? I've certainly felt her communicating directly and powerfully before). Regarding the splashless dive, I realized one day recently that The Father would be an entity of astounding resonance- lik...

"For a limited time only, I am as I was." "How is that even possible, in the face of eternity? When Perfect means Perfect, and you are The Father?" I pause. "This realm is cheating." As I speak, she intentionally merges the realms, so that my words ring out everywhere they occupy. "'Pull the Threshold of Maximum Warning back like a bowstring and strike The Threshold of Maximum Wickedness with The Arrow of "Your First Move Will Also Be Your Last.'" They also heard it elsewhere, for they were still eavesdropping. In an echo chamber, the soul comprehends how loud everything can get. 'Absolute Zero Chills.' 'Absolute Zero Love' was heard, in a distinctly deeper voice. 'See, sea? It didn't matter when I said it. It is at the speed of light, so time is stopped elsewhere.' The moon knew something about the answer, but wasn't saying a word, instead dancing from The Crow's Nest's Ripple in the waves. ...

I just took a walk that felt fully symbolic. On it, I saw an image, linked to my realization: "If one acts as The Father whilst not being The Father, one will encounter The Father." The narrative just before crossing was: "The Father drops his staff, and it turns into a serpent behind him. The Serpent does as they will. The Serpent turns into a staff while returning to The Father's hand." I saw just after, crossing through a secret threshold just for me, hidden in plain sight, that I was changing realms. I realized after this, that in every new dream, most have had the experience of suddenly "knowing" the narrative. I realized that the only way this "knowing" can be implanted is if the realms are synchronized in that moment, applying the context like engaging and removing a clutch to change gears. If they are not synchronized, and this transition is attempted, the result would be exactly as The Brown Rider for that individual, with two narrat...