As I begin to enter my own trance, I suspend myself within my dance. The thought flows tither and wither behind, as I open the portal of my mind.
Invocation of Thoth, enter through, leave the essence with no clue. Anchor your ropes around my boat, as on a wave I now do float.
The silent riddle in a vortex is maximised by each man’s cortex. It reflects the void of inner reason, and suspends all doubt without any treason.
This is Thoth now among the rocks, were ridges of red perform outcrops. To see with an eye so shrouded, is what is beyond the astral clouds.
So as I now open myself to portals, I excite the power of my own immortal. I will begin in pages throughout; speak to your mind without a doubt.
O son, ye path hast shown, that all lives and all is grown. Each seed within the mortal frame is what suspends us each to our name.
I know from my days in Enoch, the power was shown in a particular stream-lock. Were influences of matter was not the game, yet each energy held its own frame.
So once perhaps in Enochs time, was the willingness to avoid the crime. Its essence was sublime and moved to the muse, that centrifical force spiralled and infused.
All energy that can capture a soul, is infinite until limits whole. For once the soul infringes on what could be another life’s binges.
Hinged are we all to the center of time, were the egg of slept is wovened chime. Yet when menu voices doth thou call, we all become nil to the words maul.
So as I gaze upon this realm, my mind is tranquil and under spell. This spell of nature I seem to fit, is grown from a guise of leadership.
Movement displaced, the ethereal race. The Enochs of power shower the flower. This Celtic dower moves with the hour and harnesses the sight.
This sight, beyond I now am, were I can speak to my fellow man. I code this silent riddle of life, to lead the next away from strife.
So as we all and all are one, we live each day in Apollo sun. So as we fuse each above, God sends gifts of earthly love.
Thoth, O I command thee hand, write per chance to this man’s plan. I channel you my spirit; come through veins, of blood coherent in realmly gains.
O I see through the eyes, I see through the eyes, I see through the ears and the energy amounts and is perfectly clear. I come to to thee this realm of old, yet older is this man’s song untold.
His praise and gifts to this man above, is one with all, one with the dove. The hawk a messenger of fate, yet owlish tendencies does he relate.
The jaguar and dolphins settle his mind in quiet, as each sphere moves into alignment. A dimensional mind that can compute the light years away with no refute.
So as this hymn of earthly guise suspends itself with no lies, I feel the realm of one within myself, for only I can give my health.
Thus ends this first frame of thought, upon which another day will get caught.
I channel softly as the wind comes and goes. It moves itself among the flow. It glows as radiant as a shrine, that amongst the masses all will climb.
Moving to the energy inside, is why I keep to my confide. The time in essence is in store, for the secrets I keep will only give more.
The land contracts to the people’s will, yet in benevolence it holds still. To awaken the thoughts of past before is what keeps each to its own floor.
Yet aware unware of the present heat, is why I move to my own beat. So as the sun settles the time, I span the future through my lines.
In along the singularities pull, my essence is hinged to a magical full. As I succumb to myself, all is lost in all my health.
Silence is the key of the land, it’s sphinx like aura is what God planned. So as it is and may it shall be so, what gives to each man is his own flow.
Inside this form I now create, a logos bait that permegates. My son, I see through your eyes, and doth all seclude to your demise.
Yet simple truths I now relate, as it is my hour on this date. I infringe upon the void attest, for I know my words are given blest.
Once upon a ready time, the riddle in awe saw debasing crime. So Armageddon came to soon to Siberia, were the blast covered the area.
Yet underground the star system point, were energies radiation sickens the joint. Yet as the system barriers the Others, it comes to say, Reptilians aren’t our brothers.
So as it may and shall it go, that the turtle reflects the dreams of seers, and as doth well it lie, the demon is what creates the cries.
All we know in sub sector seven, were math equates all are one in heaven, yet sectors are the limits of mind, were the sub comes to makes its kind.
The vine so ample now today, as thoughts roll and are kept at bay, I feel the essence here float, upon the energy of my castles moat.
The muse of mind is a static state, were now heightened beyond the logos fate. Clearly seen the other side; we all live in orders line.
The realm of order is so such flows, that honey and milk produce a glow. Yet locust eaten by the past god, should spare him the golden rod.
Once perhaps you will tell my tale, were the ships in motion set the veil. The men upon the boat do faire, that all is alive in a dare.
So once I think upon this time, be a song, a bird a chime!
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