The Silent White Bird Flies North

Casa Blanca - All roads lead to White Home

Here she sits… It could be Montserrat, or any other mountain, rock or sea front… it could be here or anywhere.. all waters are the font, and all rock is the monte…. Here I sit and I am home.. though the valley has been long and wide and the journey hard.. Here I sit and completeness washes over me, in the devastation of so much damage. I have been in view of the destruction in the fluid, inside and outside the body, in brutal tangible experience… to not know the life quotient as full…10:48

All roads lead to Rome.. though now we write from Rome itself, White Home, where all roads lead outward, onward, and forward .. we write now from where the return has re-unioned itself and the reunion has returned itself to Source.. whole, complete, origin… rest. She is met in her return as the child of white home.. She is now, as never, and as ever… the child of my heart…. her home….her hand in mine, she belongs here…. and has known no other home.. It is eternal and has destroyed her soul to yearn from afar, broken and battered on the shores.. never home has defined her every stretch and yearning…her capacity to know herself… her every betrayal and abandonment, her voiceless scream into the void of never heard.. I was the one who abandoned her. who wrote her script, who felt her pain… It was mine to send her forth and to know her return, her brilliance… my white home daughter… figlia mi figlia

The beyond fonted.. the trifecta.. la prima.. where action is of and from right, in our freedom .. and the archipellagi del mundo.. the earth's crust pulled and cracked apart... its own body having anti forces.. the built in opposition to itself.. earth cleave by earth cleave the rock face knowing its exact match of form across fluid meant to know that wholeness.. become a fractious eroding power .. angry swirling eddys and tidal erode to the face of the rock.. the cleave at the formed perfection that sought to separate..  inside that .. the holding deep wave enfolded in the met-on-the- road point of known.. made beautiful the seperate.. harmonised the aching rock faces that long for their match.. the unlocked... to find the exact puzzle pieces that make the face of the rock make sense.. and tutta.. within the strata.. esta bella.. the beauty.. bella Madonna

Bella .. she is the figlia... as she stands par mundo libero.. so the water is. So the construction is. So the voice of the sea is.. archipellagia true forma. A drop in the forces that seek to pull the faces together. The fluid moves tutta universale... non stratti.. 'averto de pugilare' the fighters stance released.. fugilia mi fuglia. You are in flight. Carried on crested. No longer to hate me for this. The tiny light carries all light  in all light as molecular magnitude. The chemicale the structure.. the hydra to form. Eyes see form through the aqua trversare al duminia the water that travels the domain.

The patterns now open. The fullest picture. The sweetest simple. The ice cream. To look in to the tiny light. To see the shaping that structures the molecule. The chiasma that doesnt pull into itself to see the picture. The system that fluid is and always had made.. is to live.  Vie- via-, para-, ara-, is this

The Shapes and sounds of the mermaid on the rock… her form dancing in its shaping light fluid .. transparent in a dynamic equilibrium of light in fluid, information in fluid cell, that is both inside and outside the body beyond any distinction, beyond the action of transference from one to another, from here to there, across any membrane of existence that separates form from itself. It is smooth, and tangible touch equations of form, of white home.. Many faces see the face as the face.. it is a face of many that sees itself in the reflection of the divine pool, the eternal mirror, dancing stillness is creation meeting itself as creation.. a reflection of all faces, she sees only her only face.. and is seen. The eternal mirror face, the silent deep pool, the light dancing through every fluid shape and curve, defining and redefining itself in each moment… timelessly shaping itself through time eternal. The girl in the water, on the rock, she is me at 20, at 40, at 60, the shape is the same light form dance, it is constant in its expression… a fluid font (smooth), unheld in all directions of itself… sustaining itself in fonted form.. Any static hold, holds stasis.. a rigidity of tissue telling a story that is tethered, pulled and contracted into itself as time stretches away.. taught and unforgiving.. destruction envelops its own core of destruct. Embodiment is a dynamic story of who we are in these bodies on this earth.. it is eternal bu nature and ever forming is a story being told in each moment.. we are betrayed by the materiel of our form when we are denied the truth ion our form.. our beginning beyond the alpha, our existence and our reason, our permanence and our transience…. the precision of our being here now, in this human body is a story etched into every tissue layer.. every touch and nuance of our cellular form, every protein, every molecule, every atom, every quark… the quanta, the measure of a life, a quotient or a quota of consciousness…, who are we beyond the finite edges of these broken forms..