Tuesday, May 8, 2012



Within each waking moment, we seize an impetus within our psyches which, by no fault of our own, is breaking free of this cellular endorsement to mediocrity. We create beauty everyday, true beauty, with true abandonment. We go off with the pixies to refuel from this 3D hiccup. We constantly reassure others that the odds are against humanity and we are definitely a long shot to come out of these murky waters unstained, underwhelmed and undone. Well, sort of. We are hesitant to create new connections for fear they hold an old past memory which needs attention. A diabolical part of yourself that faded away in the moonlight. We have been the beast, the burden and now moving into the sacrificial lamb...for the sake of a few old men.

This is where your mediocrity originates from. A catharsis of unoriginality fuelled by a bloody war and sips of devilish power for the sake of a moment filled without love, empathy & compassion. An almost mechanically driven moment operating without soul nor spirit. We wonder what the world could be. We have reference points of our personal utopia. But now dears, it's time to put those moments together. We are the jigsaw puzzling ourselves. Crucifying the uncorrupted. Poppycock, it can't be done. Neither history nor science are unblemished by the stains of innocent blood, because a self proclaimed God stopped by to have some fun at our expense. But how powerful really is an irresponsible God? 

A vacuum of of love is trying to get at us, knocking on the doors of truth, exposing an anomaly found nowhere else in the universe. Sparks of majesty are crowning the children of earth, so they can tell their stories to the star children. Suits are becoming as unpopular as toxic food, the noose around our brothers neck leaves him with no oxygen, gasping for air in an undiluted paradise of smelly disdain for the meek and vulnerable. It was old memories which trapped him. The discouragement of fathers bent because of war. Too brittle to father anything vulnerable. Too damaged to be loved. Lying in bed reliving an irresponsible moment created with a deceptive eye. We say sorry in between breaths because our souls are compassionate. We are always there when we hear the silent impetuous screams from the collective heart. We keep getting damaged by these innocuous memories we hold onto. The baggage which heaven refuses. Slight distortions of moments intended for bliss, not misery. 

I beseech you. How do we get you onside? On a platform paved with true historic inevitability. Not the fodder served up to your damaged child. Let you know of realities where you danced for centuries because dancing was the rhythmic speech of love. Each step from now on must be paved with grace. So we continue to unwind ourselves in this misty oversight of soul. We over embellish in sanctimonious fear of being persecuted on a cellular level. But the beast will get inside of you. Humming in your bones to the tunes of archontic crimson. It wants to inhabit your soul momentarily. It wants to emulate compassion. The yearning for the nurturing we so lost. It eats your memories with lustful intent, drying the tears of sentiment under rose coloured glasses. It is to you I offer a potential I had yearned for. Today I told the world I cared. In my own voice of inexplicable destiny. I'm done crying, dying for the sins of broken men, bitter and twisted in the pool of unlimited potential. It is a potential that is being called upon to bind the moment with grace and gratitude.

Wherever you are situated you define this sensory paradise. If it scours with contempt, nurture it. In its tangible state, gnosis is earthbound, an introduction to the Sacred Art of Transmogrify. All we touch will light up, so sacrifice the ego for unconditional Love. It helps us all.

STAY SACRED ....... if you DARE !!!

© Copyright David O'Brien 2012

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