the energy flows in, the portal opens itself for transmission,
submission to the frequency that dials us in to unified motion,
devotion to the galactic centre, holds us still in its exhale,
the in breath is an opportunity to arise, from divisive instrument,
a wavering from the 260000 year old lament,
a shining moment to lean in to liberation,
the gateway gleams reflective for those eyes with vision to behold,
our transformation must be bold.
there is no more space for mediocre ascent, the rising as been foretold by many incarnations prior to this...
the darkness seeks to unfold upon willing masses,
Shackled to their matrix, a faceless name, an incantation,
Spellbound The shadow casts a long diversion to those who choose slumber over discomfort,
prefer ignorance over wisdom, and even in their baffled egotism...surrender soul for a promissary note,
An ancient Babylonian curse, still worshipped...
each snoring soul is an unkept garden, with weeds that have taken over..blocking out the sun.
the choice is collective and individual all at once,
choosing sovereignty to guide liberty.
Now is the only time,
Precession's March has arrived, wipe the suffering from your sleepy eyes and recognize your soul.