∆ Neural Alchemist | Self-mythologist ∆
If you’d prefer to sit there as I devour this holy pomegranate for my last meal
Then I wouldn’t bat an eyelash during grace
While the world is lovemaking to cope with flesh
I vow to touch the earth with the courtesy of life in mind
As you reflect the desert
Sandy and grit
The in-between
The more of the lesser
You’d be fine off asking yourself
Have you forgotten
And what are you willing to do to remember
Grown lady
Having babies
With modern men
Oh what a sin
Slow connections make me uneasy, but perhaps they are the healthiest. Perhaps these passionate beginnings are tactics used for benefit by leeches and vampires. They tend to like my blood the most. Perhaps slow connections should be preferred. To see, trust and remind myself of who I am. Like one step at a time. An unknown. I’m not so sure what I’m supposed to be learning or doing.
I get hate for being an alchemist.
I’m surrounded by hurt people. Confused people. Boundaries. Know my limits. Become a recluse.
My abundance is my backbone. It’s what real love tastes like. Unconditional love. Chamomile and honey.
Calm waters. Strength. I know how it looks getting there and what it feels like. I taste it often. It surrounds me. I’ve felt the touch.
Seeking similarities. Taking risks but not to strike blood, not blind and never fooled.
Tap in or keep your distance, cause once ancestors makes moves we burn bridges with haste to protect ours.
Angels speak
I’ve warned you
Warning. Red. Alarmed. Gut.
Warning
Have a problem?
Confront yourself
Don’t pretend to forget
Don’t rely on other to remember
You are the pilot
Spirit knows what you know
And you know what you know
So hold oneself accordingly
Bear the flame you’ve created
Dance in it
Feed the seeds you sow with the ashes
Ain’t no one to blame but yourself; if one must
Catch a mirror, catch a blade
Capture the power of choice as you catch the sunrise
Our choices; we choose
What future are you voting for
With every breathe, each rising, every move
Every seed
As you’ve placed your opinions and judgements through the paths created
Everyday of the the rest of your life
You have placed your bets
You have created the paths
And ultimately
Believe it or not
You are in charge
Embrace it or fall in line
Lead or be lead
“Hmm. Ode to him. In another world I believe you were the love of my life, as I was the apple of your eye. Here, we stay dancing with the spirits of our multiverse. The ghosts of the past replaying within us. As love calls our names. Tethered. But not in the same, for here we sit touching our crisp layers, and saying a prayer to be seen. With nothing to say.
It’s not me.”
-It’s not you either.
“Ive never believed in love at first sight. I laughed in the face of the idea that someone could love someone like me.. at first glance? In one moment? Not a chance. My inner child until recently believed she wasn’t worthy. So much embedded within the coatings of my skin. But when he smiled, and I saw him alive, we would be, I humored the idea and seconded guessed it ever so slightly. And he would say those lil old things and my troubled self played the game. I often wonder was it real. Portal jumping? Never mind.”
-Harmony. Remember?
“Innocent. I remember
Together we became fire. Grounded together by the coals of our worlds. There together. Apart together.
I often played make believe and soft movies. Combined with his promises, his love tender lovin had me running. I played with the idea of him every time we meet, never as aligned. I’d like to believe the love was real, when life was being nice to us, when shit was sweet. When we were open and holding. I have videos of us in our cave. Another kind of us. Who knew co-creating a vessel and portaling a spirit would be so life altering.
Baby I felt his love before, that consistent type. When we cuddled like we’re meant to be. When we laughed and he felt like home. and I’d feel it every day.
But he didn’t hold up his end. He’s not ready to grow with the earth that has touched him. He’s not ready to twist and bend himself between the seams of his mind. To ripe at his own flesh with new hands, as he has mine. And what did I tell him? Oh to be afraid of death… Remember?”
This ode is more for me more so than him, or you, or you. Sitting tongue twisted and full of tears sipping tea with Heartache these days. my old friends! And time will heal and its Zen, just another storm now. it’s just when I’m alone and when he is near I think of him in bits and pieces. Done micro analyzing and compromising. Fuck it.
I wanted to know who you are.
But we’ve showed each other who we are.
Peace & Releasing myself from this cycle
Freegrandmaa 