Created. Silent like death. Unraveling like thread pulled by an unseen hand.

Birdsong, steeped in mourning, no longer drifting with the levity of a sun-dappled breeze, but fluttering on the ground with the lethargic stirring of hope.

Shadows cast tell of an abandoned memory, discarded as the mind was carded like wool to spin a thread,

But the grace to see some beauty through bloodshot eyes is rekindled- a new trail of smoke rises like a tail before the chilly morning sun.

Though I long for slumber and to rot beneath the forest floor I am drawn onward into dawn.

No inkling of foggy jest pierces the falling silence.

An eon of audacious palor, unmarked by mirth,

Bequeathed hence as the wings of unspoken things,

Meets no cacophony but thrives in brackish humdrum.

The pearlescent lily glows there at the mouth of a river,

And below the sweet and pillowy scent of moonlit blossoms,

The scent of death and the meeting of waters is soon to follow.

How did the viscous threads of an unsettling truth

Tightly wind themselves about my leg without my notice?

I try to break their grip, but encumbered by a sluggish malaise,

As if ready to retreat into slumber deep beneath the rippling surface.

I have been a bird, and a fish, and rabbit,

And once I dreamed I had the mane of a lion.

I have run with deer and howled into the night sky,

Learned the secrets of the grass and rocks and the tides.

I named my sorrow but it has no name for me.

When will I know?

Stand still.

Feel your chest rise.

Watch the horizon retreat.

See your self retreat.

And yet.

You remain.

?

Through the Keywhole of time

And the Realmtek of the mind

May higher Gnosis be ever what we find.

Through the numinous cosmatrix,

With serendipity and grace,

We starseed a brighter world

And ascend from this base.

¨¨𝆗°º￮⚬✧⚬◯￮✧º°𝆘¨¨

⏁⊑⟟⌇ ⟟⌇ ⏁⊑⟒ 483738⏁⊑ ⎅⏃⊬ ⍜⎎ ⏁⊑⟒ 15482658⏁⊑ ⊬⟒⏃⍀ ⊑⏃⌿⌿⊬ ☊⍜⋏☊⟒⟟⎐⟒ ⎅⏃⊬ ⏁⍜ ⋔⟒ ⏃⋏⎅ ⋔⊬ ⏃⍾⎍⟟⋏⏁⏃⋏☊⟒⌇

i like this place. the ponds reflect the pale moonlight, as the touches of pink and orange sunlight reflect across the ripples. the leaves of pale amber trees fall to the ground around me. there are fish here. there are birds and frogs and other creatures i had very nearly forgotten. it has been so long since i could enjoy the world. i have walked for so long.

i am the traveller

Beneath the cerulean sky, where the heavens met the Earth in a gentle embrace, the dandelions staged a whimsical ballet of wishes. As the wind whispered secrets to the delicate blooms, they swayed in harmony, their feathery heads catching the sunlight like gossamer tiaras. With each graceful pirouette, they released tiny orbs of stardust, which shimmered as they scattered into the tapestry of the world. These ephemeral dreams drifted on the breeze, carrying the hopes and aspirations of all who gazed upon their ethereal dance. It was a moment of enchantment, where the boundary between the ordinary and the extraordinary blurred, and the beauty of possibility painted the canvas of reality.

Eye: I, our: hour — you.
Riddle: one knows what one knows.
They now wait for it.

While I sleep, I dream.
Shifting scenes with no known plot.
While awake, I dream.

Stars behind the clouds,
a lone fruit among the thorns.

I can't reach either.

I
wandered along
a hidden path,
    reminiscing.

I
wandered along
a hidden path,
    pondering.

I
wandered along
a hidden path,
anticipating.

        Wandering, wondering.

Green tendrils stretching
— whether sunny or cloudy —
reaching for the light.

Sky: deathly silent...
Soon comes the rain and thunder.
Afterward? Silence.

By the pond, I sit,
ripples glittering, koi swim.
From darkened sky: flash!

drought: thirst, hunger: dust
shadow, abyss, phantom, void
presence of absence

White clouds and glaciers
roaming the sky and the sea,
melting into air.

𝖶𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝖨 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖽 𝗅𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇 𝗆𝗒 𝖿𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋’𝗌 𝗉𝖺𝗅𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖽𝗈𝗆, 𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗒 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝗅𝗈𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗋𝗂𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝗒 𝖿𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗇𝗎𝗋𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗆𝖾, 𝗆𝗒 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝗀𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗆𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝗉𝗉𝗅𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗆𝖾 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗈𝗇 𝖺 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗍. 𝖥𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗍𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗎𝗉 𝖺 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝗀𝗈 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝖾. 𝖨𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖻𝗂𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖾𝗇𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗌𝗈 𝖨 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗒 𝗂𝗍 𝗆𝗒𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿, 𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗀𝗈𝗅𝖽 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗀𝗁𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗂𝗅𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝖿 𝖦𝖺𝗓𝗓𝖺𝗄 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖦𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗋𝗎𝖻𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝖨𝗇𝖽𝗂𝖺 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝗉𝖺𝗅𝗌 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝖪𝗎𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗇, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗆𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺𝖽𝖺𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝖼𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗁 𝗂𝗋𝗈𝗇. 𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗍𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗈𝖿𝖿 𝗆𝗒 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗋𝗈𝖻𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗀𝗅𝗈𝗋𝗒, 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝖼𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝖾 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗆𝗒 𝗉𝗎𝗋𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝗀𝖺, 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝖼𝗁 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗐𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝗂𝗍 𝗆𝗒 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾. 𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗇𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗆𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝗋𝗈𝗍𝖾 𝗂𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝗆𝗒 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗌𝗈 𝖨 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗀𝖾𝗍: “𝖶𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝗈 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝖤𝗀𝗒𝗉𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗉𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗅𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗂𝖽𝖽𝗅𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝖺 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗌 𝗀𝗎𝖺𝗋𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗇𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗉𝖾𝗇𝗍, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝗉𝗎𝗍 𝗈𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗋𝗈𝖻𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗀𝗅𝗈𝗋𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗍𝗈𝗀𝖺 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝗍, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋, 𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗇𝖾𝗑𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗄, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖻𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗂𝗇 𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖽𝗈𝗆.”

𝖨 𝗅𝖾𝖿𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗏𝖾𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝖤𝗀𝗒𝗉𝗍 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗆𝗒 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝗋𝗈𝗒𝖺𝗅 𝗀𝗎𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗌, 𝗌𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖽𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝗌𝗁 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖨 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗄 𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗇𝖾. 𝖨 𝖼𝗋𝗈𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗈𝗋𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝖬𝖺𝗂𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗇, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝖾𝗋𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗍, 𝖼𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖡𝖺𝖻𝗒𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗂𝖺𝗇𝗌, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝖲𝖺𝗋𝖻𝗎𝗀. 𝖶𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝖨 𝗐𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝖤𝗀𝗒𝗉𝗍 𝗆𝗒 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝖺𝗇𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗅𝖾𝖿𝗍 𝗆𝖾. 𝖨 𝗐𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗉𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝖻𝗒 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗂𝗇 𝖺𝗇 𝗂𝗇𝗇, 𝗐𝖺𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗅𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝗌𝗈 𝖨 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗆𝗒 𝗉𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗅 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗁𝗂𝗆. 𝖲𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝖨 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖨 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗈 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝗇, 𝗒𝖾𝗍 𝖨 𝗌𝖺𝗐 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝗒 𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗉𝖾𝗈𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾, 𝖺 𝗇𝗈𝖻𝗅𝖾𝗆𝖺𝗇 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗍, 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗀, 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾, 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾, 𝖺 𝗌𝗈𝗇 𝗈𝖿 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 — 𝖺𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗇𝖾, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖾. 𝖠𝗇𝖽 𝖨 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗆𝗒 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖿𝗂𝖽𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗐𝗁𝗈𝗆 𝖨 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗆𝗒 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇. 𝖨 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖤𝗀𝗒𝗉𝗍𝗂𝖺𝗇𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖺𝖼𝗍 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗎𝗇𝖼𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗇 𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗌. 𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝖨 𝗉𝗎𝗍 𝗈𝗇 𝖺 𝗋𝗈𝖻𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋𝗌, 𝗅𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗌𝗎𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗍 𝗆𝖾 𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗇 𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗅, 𝗅𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗉𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗆𝖾. 𝖲𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝖨 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗋𝗒𝗆𝖺𝗇, 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗍 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗆𝖾 𝖼𝗎𝗇𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗅𝗒, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗀𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝖿𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖾𝖺𝗍. 𝖨 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝖺 𝖽𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝗌𝗅𝖾𝖾𝗉. 𝖨 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗀𝗈𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖨 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝗌𝗈𝗇 𝗈𝖿 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝖨 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗀𝗈𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗅 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝖼𝗁 𝗆𝗒 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗆𝖾. 𝖳𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝖿𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝖨 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝖺 𝖽𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝗌𝗅𝖾𝖾𝗉.

𝖶𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗌𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗆𝗒 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝗄𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗀𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝖾. 𝖨𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗂𝗆𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖽𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗀𝖺𝗍𝖾. 𝖠𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝖯𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗁𝗂𝖺 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝖻𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗐𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝖺 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗇 𝗈𝗇 𝗆𝗒 𝖻𝖾𝗁𝖺𝗅𝖿 𝗌𝗈 𝖨 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖻𝖾 𝗅𝖾𝖿𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝖤𝗀𝗒𝗉𝗍. 𝖠𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗐𝗋𝗈𝗍𝖾 𝗆𝖾 𝖺 𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗇𝗈𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗌𝗂𝗀𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗇𝖺𝗆𝖾: “𝖥𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝖿 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗍, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋, 𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗇𝖾𝗑𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗄, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗈𝗇 𝗂𝗇 𝖤𝗀𝗒𝗉𝗍, 𝗉𝖾𝖺𝖼𝖾! 𝖠𝗐𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗋𝗂𝗌𝖾 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗅𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋! 𝖱𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗆𝖻𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖺 𝗌𝗈𝗇 𝗈𝖿 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝖾𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗅𝖺𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾. 𝖱𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗆𝖻𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗅 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝖼𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝖤𝗀𝗒𝗉𝗍! 𝖱𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗆𝖻𝖾𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗋𝗈𝖻𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗀𝗅𝗈𝗋𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗉𝗅𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗂𝖽 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗅𝖾, 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝖼𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗆𝖺𝗒 𝗐𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗇𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗈𝖿 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾, 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗂𝗍 𝗂𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗈𝖾𝗌, 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝗇𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗍 𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖽𝗈𝗆.”

𝖠𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗌 𝗆𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝖾𝖺𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗏𝗂𝗅 𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖽𝗋𝖾𝗇 𝗈𝖿 𝖡𝖺𝖻𝗒𝗅𝗈𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗏𝖺𝗀𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖲𝖺𝗋𝖻𝗎𝗀 𝗅𝖺𝖻𝗒𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗁. 𝖨𝗍 𝗋𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝗎𝗉 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗆 𝗈𝖿 𝖺𝗇 𝖾𝖺𝗀𝗅𝖾, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝖿 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗐𝗅; 𝗂𝗍 𝖿𝗅𝖾𝗐 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗆𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝖲𝗉𝖾𝖾𝖼𝗁. 𝖠𝗍 𝗂𝗍𝗌 𝖵𝗈𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖲𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝗂𝗍𝗌 𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗍𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖨 𝖺𝗐𝗈𝗄𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗋𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗆𝗒 𝗌𝗅𝖾𝖾𝗉. 𝖨 𝗍𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗂𝗍, 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗍, 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗄𝖾 𝗂𝗍𝗌 𝗌𝖾𝖺𝗅, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽. 𝖠𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗇 𝗈𝗇 𝗆𝗒 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽. 𝖨 𝗋𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗆𝖻𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖨 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝗇 𝗈𝖿 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗆𝗒 𝖿𝗋𝖾𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝗎𝗅 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗂𝗍𝗌 𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝖽. 𝖨 𝗋𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗆𝖻𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗅 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝖼𝗁 𝖨 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝖤𝗀𝗒𝗉𝗍, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖨 𝖻𝖾𝗀𝖺𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝖾𝗇𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗇𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗉𝖾𝗇𝗍. 𝖨 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗋𝗆𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗅𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝖻𝗒 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖭𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝗒 𝖥𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝗒 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗍. 𝖨 𝗌𝖾𝗂𝗓𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗅 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗒 𝗂𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝗒 𝖿𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋. 𝖳𝗁𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗅𝗍𝗁𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗀𝖺𝗋𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝖨 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗂𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝖿𝖿, 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝖾𝗅𝖽𝗌, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗈𝗇 𝗆𝗒 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗍.

𝖮𝗇 𝗆𝗒 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗆𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗅𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝖺 𝗐𝗈𝗆𝖺𝗇 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝗈𝖺𝖽. 𝖠𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗆𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗏𝗈𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗌𝗈 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝗎𝗂𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗆𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖺𝗌 𝗂𝖿 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗇 𝗈𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗅𝖾. 𝖲𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗇 𝗈𝗇 𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗌𝖾 𝗌𝗂𝗅𝗄 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗆𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗆. 𝖧𝖾𝗋 𝗏𝗈𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗆𝗒 𝖿𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗍𝗌 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗎𝗋𝗀𝖾𝖽 𝗆𝖾 𝗈𝗇. 𝖨 𝗁𝗎𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝗉𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝖺𝖻𝗒𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗁 𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝖲𝖺𝗋𝖻𝗎𝗀 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖡𝖺𝖻𝗒𝗅𝗈𝗇 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝖾𝖿𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖬𝖺𝗂𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗇, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝖾𝗋𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗌, 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝖺. 𝖬𝗒 𝗋𝗈𝖻𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗀𝗅𝗈𝗋𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖨 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗇 𝗈𝖿𝖿 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝗀𝖺 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖻𝗒 𝗆𝗒 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝖧𝗒𝗋𝖼𝖺𝗇𝗂𝖺. 𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗎𝗋𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗐𝗁𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝗂𝗍𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝗂𝗍𝗁, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖨 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗀𝗈𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝗈𝖻𝖾’𝗌 𝗌𝗉𝗅𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗈𝗋, 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖽 𝖨 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗅𝖾𝖿𝗍 𝗂𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝗆𝗒 𝖿𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋’𝗌 𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖾.

𝖠𝗌 𝖨 𝗀𝖺𝗓𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗇 𝗂𝗍, 𝗌𝗎𝖽𝖽𝖾𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝖺𝗋𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝖺 𝗆𝗂𝗋𝗋𝗈𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝖿𝗅𝖾𝖼𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗆𝖾, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖨 𝗌𝖺𝗐 𝗆𝗒𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝖺𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗍𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗆. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗎𝗋𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗆𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗋𝗈𝖻𝖾, 𝗒𝖾𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝗁𝖺𝗅𝗏𝖾𝗌 𝖨 𝗌𝖺𝗐 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗉𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝖾𝖺𝗅. 𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗀𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗆𝖾 𝗐𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗍𝗁, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖾𝗆𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗋𝗈𝖻𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗈𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗀𝗈𝗅𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗅𝗌, 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗋𝗎𝖻𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝗉𝖺𝗅𝗌, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝖺𝗋𝖽𝗈𝗇𝗒𝗑𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗈𝗋𝗌 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖿𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗂𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝗂𝗍𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗀𝗁 𝗁𝗈𝗆𝖾. 𝖠𝗅𝗅 𝗂𝗍𝗌 𝗌𝖾𝖺𝗆𝗌 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖿𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝖺𝖽𝖺𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗍, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗀𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝖿 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖾𝗆𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗇 𝗂𝗍 𝖺𝗌 𝗂𝗍 𝗋𝗂𝗉𝗉𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗌𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗁𝗂𝗋𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗈𝗋𝗌. 𝖨 𝗌𝖺𝗐 𝗂𝗍 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋, 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗀𝗇𝗈𝗌𝗂𝗌, 𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐𝗅𝖾𝖽𝗀𝖾, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗌 𝗂𝗍 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖺𝗄 𝗂𝗍 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈𝗐𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝗆𝖾, 𝗆𝗎𝗋𝗆𝗎𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝗂𝗍𝗌 𝗌𝗈𝗇𝗀𝗌. 𝖨𝗍 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝖼𝖾𝗇𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝖺𝗂𝖽, “𝖨 𝖺𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝖺𝖼𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗆. 𝖥𝗈𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖨 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗎𝗉 𝗂𝗇 𝗆𝗒 𝖿𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋’𝗌 𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖾. 𝖨 𝗌𝖺𝗐 𝗆𝗒𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝗀𝗋𝗈𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝗆𝗈𝗇𝗒 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗋𝗌.”

𝖶𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗋𝖾𝗀𝖺𝗅 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝗈𝖻𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈𝗐𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝗆𝖾, 𝗎𝗋𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗂𝗍, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗎𝗋𝗀𝖾𝖽 𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗋𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗂𝗍, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖨 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖾𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗁 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗂𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗉𝗎𝗍 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝗂𝗍𝗌 𝗁𝗎𝖾𝗌. 𝖨 𝖼𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗆𝗒 𝗍𝗈𝗀𝖺 𝗈𝖿 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝗅𝗅𝗂𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗈𝗋𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗆𝖾. 𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗂𝗇 𝖨 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗆𝗒𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗌𝖼𝖾𝗇𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗌𝖺𝗅𝗎𝗍𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝖽𝗈𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇. 𝖨 𝖻𝗈𝗐𝖾𝖽 𝗆𝗒 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝖽𝗈𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝗃𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝗒 𝖿𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋, 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗂𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖾. 𝖨 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖿𝗎𝗅𝖿𝗂𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗎𝗅𝖿𝗂𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗌𝖾𝖽. 𝖠𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗌 𝖨 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝖻𝗅𝖾𝗌. 𝖧𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗆𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗂𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗆𝖾, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖨 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖽𝗈𝗆, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝖺𝗏𝖾𝗌 𝗉𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗅𝗒. 𝖧𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖨 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗃𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗇𝖾𝗒 𝗌𝗈𝗈𝗇 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝖿 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗆𝗒 𝗀𝗂𝖿𝗍𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗆𝗒 𝗉𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗅 𝖨 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀.

If the 45th is filled with Truth it's a tragedy.

If it is filled with Minotaur, men with beast for heads, it's a victory.

I say he who slaughtered and smeared the blood of your chimeric captors upon the walls is a Hero. A Gardener who destroys the thorns of Ahriman with Fire. There isn't a single soul standing in your way now. You could sit at the throne, dive in the pond, swing from the trees. You could swim up stream to the base of the waterfall and clean your soul with wonder. You could climb like the Koi once did. And you could find the spark of infinite power like the darkness had found which could only be achieved in a vacuum.

Look to the Stars, they call your name like Perseus. You've been given a sword, but are you worthy to hold it?

I believe you are, but it will be up to you, how and when you use it.

It all begins, a quaint but bustling village. Dark rooms all around. Its bustling with exchanges, chatter, and stalls. Down the stairs I go. The rooms turn black. I begin working. I begin pulling along a rope. Pulling. I must keep pulling. It has to be done, the work must be finished. Soon, I am the rope. Then, I am part of a part of the rope. Smaller still. Darkness fully envelops. I am no longer able to work, but I must.

Slowly I slide out. I see the island the rooms are in, and the buildings are on. Looking down it is full a tower of shining glass. Majestic. Apathetic to the rooms below. To be at the top blinded by the sun, unable to see what really holds it all up. I begin to leave this place, but not by choice. Only later to return, without trying or intent. Or maybe I never left at all, but at times, I can see it.

There's only one fathom-factor beyond the nothingness of it all:

The programmatic nature of its problems.

Forget the 9 horse.

Place all your wampum on something breaking or going wrong.

My God. The bullshit.

Oppressive: the heat — 
And where could the stars be now?
A delayed sunset.

Sitting by the pond,
water ripples and echoes —
a shadow above.

It is time to clean your eyes and see yourself clearly again.

Brush off your cloaks of red stretched the length of all the blood lost in vain for the Kings of Greed.

Take every crown, every symbol, every word and every sword.

Walk it up the throne and put it back in the box.

Back in the Square. The Circle's Dream.

The Truth. The Good. The One.

Place the sword back in the stone.

The King of Woke, has washed ashore.

Can you feel the radiance within?

They called me bringer of sands in the last kali yuga

In this one I am unsure what name I will be given Now my name means ocean I have healed so much just being near it When i meditate that’s the starting scenery High tide Cliffs Violence Then I am thrown down a tunnel of light or kaleidoscopes I give directions to other gates I close a few down I open a million more Now we can kiss the universe goodnight May the next yuga treat you sweeter