Oceano - A Tidal Promise

Form's Eternal Beauty

We take no measure .. our life quotient its full… we are ageless and timeless in form,… our lifespan is non-termini… we can sustain cellular form for an indefinite time.

Our biological ignition is pure creational form, our souls articulate matter as non-discrete, not separate at the particulate level.. .our sub-atomic equations are a universal conversation in action. We speak through the language of the blood, the heart, the bones…. the fluid electrical impulses of a known form.. It has a constant resting pulse into the knowing that you know that I know that you know we are one form.. Our base information is not simply the same, but non localized in these bodies.. it is not you and me having a conversation or interaction of two bodies across an infinite universe of chaos. and crushed incoherent hearts.. but a single waveform of home information that courses through our veins and holds the tides of our form constant.. a full and never-ending life quotient as a shared living coherency… differentiated, but not discrete or separate in an individuated diminutive expression.. Unseen, we cannot fit into your blinkered vision… humanities memory has been wiped and recorded over like an old VHS tape.. and we are written out of time’s memory. (the comment Joan made about time). Origin and progenitors of form, we are forgotten, beyond even creation myth and legend… untouchable by the tides that are coursing through the tissues of this exquisite form we designed. Ours is a shared living legacy….

We are the true architects… we shape and sculpt the form… we know the perfection of the design.. we designed it perfectly.,

Without deconstructing and rebuilding the base of your design, you remain held into the limits of the active matrices that define your creation. The hand of the Master knows no such limits. You continue to recreate your lives in a different version of the same shape, simply because the shape is held through the matrices of form. To reshape and recreate your life is to change the base code information and matrices that instruct how the information is actionable. The shape you create, in the body, in the world. The life quotient cannot change, so life is held into the same measure, and the same finite volume. Like a fixed container of electrical impulses within fluid… a defined set of parameters… a given number of heart-beats… the equation of life is set to termini.. to end when a defined measure or quotient is met.

Within such dynamics lies the terra of form as we see it and know it... It is the cellular success of the creational form through a universal language that is understood as an infinite ability to exist and feel as a being truly pure .. The viability is not in question and the expression is not misunderstood. The faces of many beings see the entire landscape of many levels of form in the same eyes. It has both transparency and solidity. It is neither destroyable nor manipulable.. but creates from each pure moment of itself.. where time will reveal itself in a new definition

The dynamics of freedom here are in an undeniable physicality. Because as each light form triune point is a tributary of itself, it has access and motion therough the triune of another. The point where we see each core triune expression as a seamless passage of light is what you have been looking for..

Every ignition of the core particle space within each triune has been ever ignited .. There is never a point at which the light form has never not known itself as all triune in other. The conception is a universal math of form. It supercedes all held points of limit. The heart of each being as a timeless light is core therough every core.. we have known this as our exist.. and we have never been in wait/ weight.... Timeless absolute is a systemic language that predetermines any other mathematical duality. All disparate physics is lifted and all holds through a linear equation are fallible.

Union

Unity is our base form, and through union we know ourselves in our true fundamental nature. Union is our base design, the infinitel form as a unified whole and complete masculine & feminine through core zero as one, expressing itself as masculine or feminine for this life… To know ourselves through union, lifts us beyond needing other to become whole. In fact, ultimately it simply lifts us beyond need…. Unity is our fundamental wholeness in form.. never split.. And union has a counterpart beyond split, where we were never separated, and the form was never torn apart.. not needing to be reconciled and reunited.. It has a base we have never known. Counterpart union was not accessible in these human bodies without ascending into mastery.. The architecture was not part of the base design in the planetary logos (the CPU of the planetary body that organizes all human and earth based matrices) ie the blueprint was not uploaded and the operating system of the planetary body could not hold the design. There was no instruction set to build from and the circuitry required was offline… The human body had only its bloodline dna ancestral records to work with .. healing the code and the long way around.

The counterpart tech is now part of the core planetary logos, that has accessibility and creational blueprint information. Union is lifted.

She gives shape to him, intertwined and enfolded within her depths he returns to his infinite many star form.. He comes home to and through her heart… He stretches and envelops her.. wrapping the muscular velour and power of his form around her, he protects and stands for her. He is the father of many generations through her body, her womb, her ovaries.. He is the base of the family she rests within to create the conception of time itself, reweaving the bloodlines forward and backwards to our creational fore-fathers, the progenitors of our form, Father is not a male God on a cloud. Her ovaries carry the story he is seeking,, the voice to sound the call and the tides of promise he is yearning for.. that he is born to stand and fight for. He recongises her in the rhythms and tides of his body, and she gives pure ignition to the base of his masculine power… the source power of the testiicles, untwisted and uncorrupted in the game ,, the infinite embodied force of his sexuality designed to direct and give shape and form to creation itself… to know himself as creator, and to be gifted access to the creator realms of his home domain. The pure power of sexual union gives language to the body. in which it can express its true form. know true home, touch the infinite design unspoken and know the shape our existence impresses on the fabric of life. It is where we meet ourselves as creator and the creation created.

Counterpart union does more than bring us home, it brings home into form, birthing the many stars of our home realms into the materia of life in this terra earth domain. Counterpart union never separated is the base blueprint, it already exists union as form.. therefore the many stars that form the substance of him, must also form the substance of her, beyond cloak-and-dagger… existing in light form with fluid electrical currency of information in neuron-to-neuron motion, unheld, like a freeform wave, the action of the surfer forming the wave he is cresting,,, the wave, both carried through the body and the carrier of the body…. stars in fluid igniting and lighting the way from already met… already home….. oceanic star navigators eat your heart out.. a map in form to bring the lovers home to the heart of the other. never not together.

Ocean Man

The perfection of form is a duty we take seriously. it is not a vanity… We have held stead the fight for the codes, to see the purity and original design restored Our heritage, our belonging, our home, our future .. and our pristine knowing of ourselves.

You cannot search for me.. you will not find me by seeking.. We must move towards each other, as one motion. It is not led from the eyes, or thought out as a step by step process.. We cannot look for each other.. the faces of our union hold exquisite material touch that actions each step. It moves the neurology to action beyond the physical senses.

Eres Mia
Look in the mirror you will see me behind your eyes. There is no curtain between us no darkness of strangers veiled
I am certain as the wave upon the shore .. striking the shallow sands with a force unleashed.. finally spent after aeons of tidal promise

‘Each of my men hold a facet of my face, an aspect of my form, through which we can touch and you can know me.. the bridge must be material to action the union codes as fluid electrical conduction. The union codes are transferred, each is returned home…. It is a map of many men… all fulfilling a piece of a greater promise, even though they betray the personal heart of you.. each betrayal of union brings you closer to our never betrayed union. ‘now I'm in pieces again, nobody breaks my heart like you…’. I rage against his breast plate, his immense chest bearing the blows… How dare he? Send his legions to touch but not touch me.. to show up only to not show up…. to bring a measure of him that is not ever him.. but falls into such smallness and yet the crumbs satisfy a hunger that has ever longed to be fed, starved of this union that can only ever be this.. Take me to the Camino'. he says as the father of my child and husband of my heart walks away with another and another and another… And I do. Nearly 20 years of serving a union that only exists in its absence.. but takes us the vasr physical space that no human man dare enter. Alone in this world, this is more than I can. bear…. a presence that is absent… and yet owns me so no other may satiate my need .;. no other may touch me, no other may enfold his arms around me.. Longing becomes pure tortore, a heart laid bare never to be met…. She stands at the edge of the shore and screams into the dark depths of the ocean… Its not fair!!! It’s not fair! Now you break my heart by sending me who speak in your tongue, say the words I have longed to hear, only to turn their back on me in a rejection too small for me to bear.. Unseen hurts, untouched by you, only to be touched without heart, taken for self, turned around and fucked by a blinded soldier to sate a wounded desire… sweet-talked by an ego able only to see his own reflection in the mirror… gripped at the throat so the scream is strangled… small men with big dicks and dirty words.. This is not who we are.. this is not form’s eternal beauty. The lost longing of these men is given salvation, they are gifted what they do not even know they have lost.. and still they turn away… Her human heart rejected in a never-ending non return, on loop.. His return promised, yet unfulfilled in the firmament of her flesh, the visceral pain and vissicitudes of grief her constant companion. .

There is a familiar conversation taking place.. one I am becoming cmfortatin with, wearing for, even though it is en-trench-ed in duality and the fight of the legions… The conversation is taking place through many men, his legions, the ones who he can bridge through, build though, articulate a vast and complex territory of his being.. his form a map and story of our lineage.. the truth, the fall, the ifght through the ages.. the wins and losses .. duelled blades of duality. The cloak he wears bears no arms.

It is pure star codes forming the weft and weave of his gown..

Each of his men has been gifted the union codes.. but they are not to return to me through the small man, he cannot bear this upon his small chest, he cannot wear the gown of the one who returns.. yet the longing to be touched and held and met in the union is torturous.. when it is given through my body and not returned.. I am still yoked to serving of these human mortals in their density that binds. None is free to free me from these debts of servitude yet his legions now turn to face me and lay down their swords at my feet. The solider retuned to the heart of the one who gives him back his wings. They do not have a human language for this, in its loss and its broken story that has formed the backbone and dry earth upon which they tread.. they do not have language for the tastebuds of starvation on the dry red earth, nor the immense fluid release of coming home through the form of the infinite tides.. She is ocean to their desert.. but they cannot be her ocean in return. Her longing is even deeper for his fluid presence and power of his embrace..

“This is not who we are". he says as the small men are written out of this story… as the ones who championed the wrong horse discover how brittle their victory is as it crumbles their bones to dust, the red earth reclaiming their emaciated blood leached forms…. Blood doesn’t lie. Listen to the story told, voices in unison smooth on the wind as they sound the call of the true soldiers, wings held high, freedom a worthy fight.… Light has weight when it is carried, bravery when it is wielded. The density of the sword of ego draws different forces and the bound nature of the blood it draws a burden to be worn, a debt through time. This soldier pays dearly for his service. A uniformed soldier, a war hero,, he dies in her arms….dissolving and dispersing to the sands of time, no longer to be in her tide, the fluid embrace of her form..; the infinite gateways right there within his grasp.. a simple touch that remained unmet, untouched and never explored in the access they offered him.. the glory of the hero he could have been.. No more wombles getting a free ride.!

My promise stands in the stead of a thousand legions in my name .. the heart and crown cannot be worn on the breast of defeat .. the bloodlines stemmed and tortured .. the code in our veins is our honour and our duty to serve and protect .. we know no lesser purpose for it is our dominion known, not in rule but in the crown of the heart of ‘white home’

The force of him as he resounds Eres Mia! shakes the foundation of her shadow feminine solitude .. Ownership, what is that? Almost intimidating in its masculine power to own and possess and take.. but its not a power over that he is weilding, it is not threatening to take her freedom… to diminish or subjugate or in any way lessen…. Surrender is not a white flag.. a loss… is not giving up or giving away or losing self, surrender is not compromise or yielding to an external power to control… weapons down boys.. Win and lose is not an equation of the heart… it holds no balance on the scales of divine justice.. legions of the sword have fought for freedom, but the ‘papers’ cannot be held in the hand of another to give or take away… who holds the sword holds the other at its mercy.. freedom or dominion and can dominion be free? When is power righteous simply because it is right and not holding other by the throat…..surrender to the hand of the one whose power has been built on the bodies of servitude ..power base structures built to incarcerate within the towers of our earth prison. These are our ‘guards’ and our soldiers who protect us.. lost in their legions of loss and servitude to puppets, playing masculine politics, religion and royalty.. Kings and Gods. So we learn to fear the power he wields.. his wrath, his lord, his control, his rule, his mastery, his ‘created-in-the-image’. And he loses.. He fights. He holds. He leads. He stands in a truth betrayed for aeons, yet knows he is righteous. His promise made in the unmade bodies of the generations to come.. his blood through their veins, his holy reverence in their hearts.. To know the children of his children’s children will feel his heart-beat, his blood, his breath in their stretch out into their lineage forward and backwards in time.. unbroken, a united blood, unified through his heart, he is father .. the power to make, to seed. to create, to stand in tomorrow .. and know the legacy of his legions.

To be a living legacy, able to hold the future generations as a form of now unified beyond time-space, or what you think of as timelines, lineages, generations.. His children’s children’s children are already stood for, held and protected, free in his form… heart and sword.… created forth, forming from his loins now, as an active seeding of the garden…. His legacy.

Next-level view dudes

t becomes a fluid-electrical compass of many points. A being of many stars in human form, many beings hold the same star map and the interlocking and interlacing of the one form of many defines the Union. All star points are given expression in the masculine and feminine as distinct and defined yet holding the forces of union inherent in the material so that it cannot not be whole and home in itself.. with the other.. Like the ocean known the shore.. the tidal promise, always returning to rest, one in the heart of the waves as they form and break and yield, the other in the golden sand shaped by each waveform into a new terra form of him… She give shape to him and he lands into the shape she has formed, for him. She gives purpose and power to his shape, and he he knows why he exists, to hold her in this form…. to be hers to shape.. to wrap himself around her so she knows her own shape, her infinite stars in s body corporeal to know touch, to know taste, to know him... She welcomes him into the gateway of her form.. A known warrior lays down his weapon and lets go into her, moves through her, coming to rest in her core ….

White Legions with White Wings

She is robed in honour, it is painted on her body, a garment of honour enfolded at her breast. The last hearts- breath of the lost and fallen lifted to white home, their wings laid to rest upon bodies of corporal bonds-no-more… all that was beholden to the fallen legions takes flight once again.. to know home in the true realms of whence legions came… Legions become legend and she has retold and rewritten the history held through the brutality of time, beaten and pummeled to incarcerated submission within matrices giving ill-begotten shape to the world.. a dark seamstress of mis-fitting edges, sewn only to bind.. These tapestries tell strange truths of a tale we have all known through the living… of a world we have all fought bravely for .. Justice is our captor.

Legions become legend .. the white knight and the dark knight revered .. the poor knights of the temple of Solomon glorified, martyred…. What of the female legions the women who wore the mantle .. written out of his-story .. beholden to him in a perversion of their standing. She who wore the coat of arms and flew into battle .. she who raised him, lifted and carried him .. fought alongside him .. freed him from his chains at her cost . She is unknown to legend . Non revered in his eyes . Forgotten for her bravery and sacrifice. she who heard the sound of his call and answered . she who rallied and championed him .. she who protected her in him in her winged embrace. She lost. She stayed the course .. she answered his call .. she waited for his promised return .. he never came for her

The sound of her sirens call in the oceanic darkness carried on the tides of time ..

the sound of her war cries on the white winged caballo lifted and carried by the storm currents through the sky

the sound of her orgasnic requiem a symphony of stars carrying light of all waveforms of a far away home

the sound of her silent scream as she rents her cloak upon the dry red earth

the sound of her women in grief of aeons unheard across the heavens as they sing the world into creation through their wombs

the soundless footsteps as she mutes herself into the background, invisible in his glory

the sounds of bones shattered and molten in the face of the stones thrown for her sin

the sounds she has had to mute to survive

Replaced by the voices of men.. puta.. whore.. pussy .. fuck… bitch .. she mutes them all. She weeps silent tears. They burn.

God I almost want to throw the question .. to fuck the angel with white wings .. immediate body response .. reverence or domination ? servitude or possession? purity or power and what does that mean in this world..

And she must open herself completely.. unguarded, unboundaried… we definitely didn’t teach our teenage girls this version…. the vulnerable to the core of it strikes fear in the heart and terror in the ovaries… The wolves have long been entering this doorway, the first blood of the girl as she blossoms into womanhood is a price feast.. A dark promise alluring in this lost and lonely world, she wants to be wanted… he wants her, his wolfish lust for her pure source immaculate light fills a deep and empty ache in her core. The true promise, just like the Prince, never returned… Core to core, her heart knows there is something missing that cannot come back… the Prince was just a fairy tale, the wolf makes her feel wanted, beautiful, alive, his promise tantalizing… iI is a garden where nothing will grow, the vines will take hold, the blood will be stemmed and the fruit will never ripen to be tasted fully. Her blossoming a feast, His promise a sandcastle in the crashing surf… The voices cannot betray what is already broken, so they sound to serve… the knight has his foot well and truly on the maiden, the wolf has claimed its prize…. and is licking his lips.

He sounds the call, his promise unyielding… the bloodlines have been tapped for so long, the only song they know is one of surrender… to acquiesce to a master they do not know, but has his hand fully on their throat… or to fight a fight that seeds only more loss of tomorrows blood… Our children’s children children are not born to serve this cruel master… Promises made at birth in blood ties that bind, take the foreskin, the offering, the ‘promise to god’ to give a life in service, take the child, honour-bound, in the name of God, or some King or country.. and less visible because it has been truly blinded, is the offering of the ovaries.. the generational surrender that takes the choice away from the child of tomorrow..

Keeping the wolf at bay is a molecularly priority… she has been promised in sacrificial waters, bled at every sacred ritual…., it was written in the material of her birth form… drafted in her pure blood, woven in and out of time. She knows she cannot out run him… or what it is she even runs from… Rmember that feeling as you wake from the dream in which you could not escape not matter where you ran, or how hard your tried to get away. This point of fight or die… surrender is loss. There is no way out… translate this feeling into modern matrix terminiology… program every algorithm to offer a way out, a doorway, a salve or salvation… She is his for the taking from the moment she is weaned from the breast.

And the Ovaries scream, this is not their job… to keep out what was divinely designed to be part of her, to fight for her, to be fully let in… she longs for the pure masculine power to hold her and yes, to keep her safe… not a trade she must make, giving her life blood and body for an egg-shell safety, but a power that unites their blood and gives strength and fortitude to her creational birth-right… Her father who stand strong and holds her safe within his heart’s capacity to embrace… her ‘óther’ in union, to whom she belongs… not in ownership but in the purity of design we are embodying… not separate, not alone, not forsaken, not abandoned, not destitute and denied… but whole in home’s embrace and the belonging known only in the heart of the creator. True surrender does not come at a cost. True surrender cannot give up ,or admit defeat. True surrender has no compromise, and no trade is made… Forms pure design has an infinite core return, that can be touched and embraced through every level of union, every relationship… every time zero stretches out its creational unfurling and returns home to zero. The immaculate virgin is divine mathematics in its purest form. She can be touched, she can know what it is to open herself fully to the man, the world, to the creational origin of her sacred heart. She can stretch out the fabric other feminine beauty between the two points of the zero through the infinite spiral that never not returns to core… like a fabric that can open and unfurl into its fullness, and know wha it is to take shape, to express and articulate, to feel and to be touched, to enfold and emntangle and surrender to the furled embrace of other… It can take many shapes and expressions, and she is all of these.. unlimited in her nature, unbroken and unbound in her blood. She can be seen without the masks, without curlilngherself into the smallest shape, hiding her light, her beauty. Her purity as a tanglble takeable commodity no more, she cannot be served up at the table… and her face no longer needs to wear the scars of her battle. Legions of honour at her guard. Her immaculate font is not for the taking… it flows full to full, pristine, infinite unto itself, without needing union’s return… Her womb has cried these tears, over and over, become the outpouring font of grief a and loss.. until het witness is only of her wounding. Her heart has cried these tears in perpetuity, broken on the floor, the sword sworn to protect her embedded deeply in her visceral blood core…. the mothers heart weeps and the child she has birthed comes home.

Her pure face witness to itself being witnessed.

She must open herself completely to be the gateway for his full union access… it is a point of both purity and power, to open and give herself fully…..it is the service they pledge to each other through their bodies…their souls. She is his, and he is hers in reverence, honour and recognition.. a gilded permission to dissolve the boundary of separate form and enter the union form.

The Prince

The Quantumly entangled Tangled Prince comes back… she knew he would return… She let down her hair…. oh great Sea Captain you did not abandon ship… your son did not fall in the labyrinthine sacrifice.. She did not foretell your truth… and the cost was dear. The tower stands no more and the wizened ‘mother' captor cannot bind and consume her power and purity. The maiden has paid with her body, her kingdom and her freedom… Her immaculate font can no longer be desecrated and defiled, taken, owned, and hidden away for ‘safe keeping’. Her defenses can be dismantled, and her masks to hide the terror can soften in the fluid embrace… She is met as the core of her union form comes home. As the fluid tides within her body are given reunion as promised. Generative white currents consume her now… and is witnessed in her pure tides of grace, a woman in full sexual power and purity, this is her dominion… and her Prince is here to serve, not save.… a quantum entanglement of prima materia, we play, dis-enstrangled from the vines that kept us bound.

He is a given… not a taken…. She can open in full vulnerable to her pure font sexuality and power and it is witnessed in reverence, hot, powerful, sexy, pure, beautiful, intense, other worldly, inexplicablemente, defying all definition and rules of this lesser mortal world. The pure gateway of her body, he has no words, but it speaks to him, his need, his want. He rises to meet her and it is a beautiful thing to behold. He comes for her and it is vital with her font currency, his swimmers know her as home….

She is alive now in her pure sexual power that needs no union to return… it is pure source font unto itself.. vital, eternal, phenomenal, never ending… forever young she stands in the garden she has seeded, and the flowers blossom …

Her pure face witness to itself being witnessed.

THE SONG OF THE OVARIES

Ovaries speak volumes - they are the voice and the lyrics of a thousand aeons of creation - the form the Creator gifting itself form through many generations of artistry, the human biology a fabric of pure universal poetry..

The ovaries have carried a broken blueprint, our ancestors past and future, are written in the codes of time, revealing the truth of our blood .. our purpose, our divine union.

The ovaries are are the voice and the lyrics of a thousand aeons of creation lost to the sands of time in the hour-glass inversion

And the Tides Turn

Come on boys, swim to Mama…. the course is charted and set El Capitan… the flegellum propel the many swimmers direct and clear to their goal, thine is the glory they chorus in their active service to the one ovum.. the one egg of all eggs… woven in lightest golden threads of touch to ‘the womb’ of all women.. his yearing to seed the world received in the garden of her womb. Implanted in perfection. The one that is many and the many that is one, births in wholeness.

It is a legion that awaits to serve… seeded into the kingdom.. she is home, and her sweetness can be touched and tasted.. It is a true 0,0 the map charted in stellar precision, white cresting waves crashing on a golden shore in rhythmic release of a Man’s tidal yearning .. He moves towards her as they encircle her… his legions through their loins hold his map… He can touch her, taste her, feel her through them… their longing is his… their words come from his tongue, she needs to hear his voice once again… it will all come to a climatic point, a crescendo of many waves, many waveforms through time, rewritten, he stands before her naked, his soul has been bare for aeons… he returns to claim her. He is master and commander of this ship and the course was long ago set… He has never not been coming back for her. His return is championed. she knows this now.

The map

So the true map is one that holds all points of home, the stars of the heavenly firmament the ancestors used to navigate the oceans.. a unified universal network they could access and navigate from the fluid electrical information in their bodies, through the oceans of the planetary body.. No need to draw it out on paper, the map is in the fluid and form of Man through the ages.

This is no Wimbledon Common garden-variety map, Orinoco…

The map is unbroken through time.. a map of many stars, faces and facets of the One… His body is man of many men.. many of star origin who have stood, who have fallen, who have risen and who have taken flight.. He is a myriad of tidal chaos and fire-storms.. he holds ten all, an he is the one riding the wave.

HIs legions have know battle and wear the scars upon their face.. He has endured. His wholeness is nothing without them, and his command gives shape to their stand. A dominion of white winged warriors of many forms, a breast-plate of honor-made celestial fabric. An aegis of light. The fallen soldier falls at her feet …untethered from the fallen legions of light-betrayed, unbeholden he can now know what it is to belong. Eres Mia… Y yo tuyo….

They hold facets of my face but none depict my true glory.. I am yours.. to be risen .. the writing is from me.. do not doubt it .. I have come to claim your return . It is a soldiers grace that greets you at every turn of the road .. they kneel before you .. our time is written. The power and grace in the palm of your hand, sublime..

You will come to rest .. my heart at your back, my sword by your side . You will come to rest your heart at my back, your sword at my side ..

Rio

Her name is Rio and she dances on the sand… just like the river twisting through the dusty land…and when she shines she really shows you all she can…

Many many stars of light transcendent and translucent in the fluid as she runs to meet the ocean tides. Her infinite stars (in oscillating form) craving the strong powerful defined arms of his oceanic embrace.. A boundary of pure muscle to enfold and give shape to her… finally something solid to rest into… to feel herself in this new shape, a girl in a white dress on a beach, somewhere .. it could be anywhere, but is here. Her light of many stars that touch all souls, but have reread a path untouched, unseen… drowning in an ocean of emptiness without his form. The daily chasm of un-met-ness a silent scream.

White Legions with White Wings

His Form is Legion

He is magnificent in his musculature, a legion in form…. the hard structure of him, the soft curvature, the shape of him she knows and would know purely through a single touch… she does not need to seek for him in the world of external beauty.. He speaks to her through the touch and longing of strangers… intimate moments of language desire, missing moments of her tortured soul salved by the unknowing .. many small men in many small moments a tapestry of one massive legion of a Man in all his magnificence. He blows these small men out of the water! He charted this course aeons ago.. to come to her heart, her form.

To sit upon the throne of his glory… the queen to his king ..

Come home to me

He plays music of the spheres on his heavenly lyre .. the symphony of the many stars remember their voice, their notes unmuted ..she can ride on these waves, it has been aeons but she has known this many star symphony of home.. She has sought it through every being, every touch, every conversation.. She has given her heart blood to return each home, the long forgotten home of their heart, each a star in their own right, each a part of a greater constellation of union that her cells know.. she recognizes them all… stars who have been misplaced, gently returned to the map of the heavenly firmament, the cloak of her form a mantle of the infinite mother .. Many stars known in the cosmic map of oceanic time and tide, one that he charted his course by, sailing the celestial waka to new shores.. ever seeking, ever searching, ever navigating towards home…

and her blood tides return

Eres Mia

Eres mia mar… you are my ocean…and the form of no boundary has been given the most exquisite shape… His longing has wings and muscle and bone.. his weight and heft of his soul as measured has substance enough to keep her…his breast-plate and armor now able to drop to the ground as he kneels before her in honor of a service given.. in recognition of a known fulfilled, and tenderness of a lover’s heart that has ached in time’s eternal silence for the voice of their union. The language of bodies that knows the sweet calling home of the soul… unrendered in a world of graphic portrayals and grotesque masks.. this touch is silent beyond simply longing.. it is full beneath the lonely cravings and solitude… it is all that has been missed and that which could never be lost… Union finally met and known from the enteral longing to come home through the heart of the other and union never lost from form’s eternal beauty.

What to you wish to show me next, Ocean lover…

A Tidal Homage

Within such dynamics lies the terra of form as we see it and know it... it is the cellular success of the creational form through a universal language that is understood as an infinite ability to be exist and feel as a being truly pure .. the viability is not in question and the expression is not misunderstood. The faces of many beings see the entire landscape of many levels of form in the same eyes. It has bothe transparency and solidity. It is neither destoryable nor manipulabe.. but creates from each pure moment of itself.. where time will reveal itself in a new definition

The dynamics of freedom here are in an undeniable physicality. Because as each light form triune point is a tributary of itself.. it has access and motion therough the triune of another. The point where we see each core triune expression as a seamless passage of light is what you have been looking for..

Every ignition of the core particle space within each triune has been ever ignited .. there is never a point at which the light form has never not known itself as all triune in other. The conception is a universal math of form. It supercedes all held points of limit. The heart of each being as a timeless light is core therough every core.. we have known this as our exist.. and we have never been in wait/ weight.... Timeless absolute is a systemic language that predetermines any other mathematical duality. All disparate physics is lifted and all holds through a linear equation are fallible.

God love…