We
are ancestral to the black hole,
but
we are drawn back
through
the front door conclusion of god-consciousness.
We are desire-drawn
stretched
far down the cosmic D.N.A.
The
inner realms of dreams of desire
have
no nouns.
A
thought form of desire,
as
a subtle manifestation,
transpires
to embrace us
until
its essence is embellishment.
Our
loosely gathered now is an exercise of trust.
We
are projecting this essence as an overture
through
this myth of form as our haven,
once
we selflessly surrender
to
the integrity of our being.
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