That thou, the water fell from stone was dynamite
Statues to the fallen
That carpets of blue water saw the robes fire the orange and maroon, yellow seeds of shaved head fell the walls of time. In tally the good lost, the lies won and they like the roads they traveled spread poetry to their own making. In the west, were their brothers were once too. Many had stayed once and traveled like the winds knew, then they on carpets knelt to the felt feet. Trying to cleanse the bloodshed form an ancient day, palms and all. Cursed to not live this, no release, everlasting eternity. They were not all that innocent in the lives they took, yet they did not understand what it meant either, the energy potentials.
I was bred in their lies, so lies to lies is the life light of the lights that went out in their minds, then the planted forest was one again in a communal knowledge. Machines, like minds in collective bee hives drone away for the nothingness they route in life. Life to sit in the cold floors, prayers to lie the scripts of man away, and the faiths to slave a valley people to the needs of cold mountain. Temple carpet to field mice, in innocence of their worship too, to the mountain giants.
That they erected and them themselves destroyed, the cycle continued. That I sit in my belief of them all beliefs is the forgiveness that my Heart bought and sold can offer. That they believed animals could be warmed without skin and fur was the colored meanings of all the faiths in the world. They all have had their flags held high in the light, before named energy of the meaning of the relationship dance, never named.
It was a rite, long before all the unnamed directions set the flames of risen eternity to work for the planets we serve. Then they know where the quiet wasn't. No matter. That it like the conscious lives of flowers created all our lights of the worlds we walk in belief, mine of my own learning and projected to the visions I see in the lives that surround their projections of learned garbs. Then we are the.
It would parrot, my words back to be again and it would come from another mouth like the death mask in a land that never was in death's hand. It was the whore of God once, the light reflecting back to the heavens, that it replicated what it knew in life and memory was the gift that it longed in loneliness to gift and like the organism, grew in their forbidden knowledge, that it touched the other lights in the heavens everywhere was mine to behold. Such that mine next would flight to life in the not here places, just a vision of my life here that they may live in their trapped beliefs.
For they had in my physicality lied to my learning, much of why I read little of spirit just plants and medical life and reproductive natures of the meaning of the unions, before man gave and beast taught the dead they made in words. It was another once, that walked, many that woke woke as trees were their keepers too and in life they would walk the fallen branches whispering spirit to the hands that penned them death of forest and the life in the shelves of innocent minds, that they named it the Devil once or Loki, Lucifer, Black Buddha, or the tricksters, Mordred, Druid, Gnostic, or even the nothingness of Zen Atheists was the doing and seeing the entire movie in the seated forms of the whole being. A gifted curse to covet the life of entirety. Think then my beliefs in theirs alive for their torment.
The rap on the door was the cry heard first in Heaven on that a one was lose in the garden, that they were many from once the Goddess's work was before nature of religion birthed the lies in many colors. It was the shame that they think them beyond birth, their original jobs as nature had the bee shown them , and lion as her pride knew in well. And to think she bowed to as her king once felled was to slaughter his own belief, long lost in nature of a calling. Many a belief in roofed houses fell the same before another wood fell.
It was in a flower that lies in song were danced, to scare the rich to the ghetto actor life of no meaning for trees like paper swans fell to the hands of children as adults to spoil even more of the forest. One had said I came form money and one said I was aloof. A beggar my whole life for knowledge and love, never shown save two dear to my heart that Heaven was their home for keep of their danced freedoms and desires.
That many a carpeted sales man and women walked in their swine whole of lusts was the whore in planet whole of knowledge for the pieces it needed to be and experience. For "Who shalt scare the child to Hell?" What a crime of creation, and yet their role in the time they lived it to be so. That some sit with eyes closed to their own life and stone cold on the floor, standing, seated and unappreciative of their hidden truths is not a Buddha, it is a saving face of shaming them. They ought be what they were in life, the lifted human aura of their other houses, then once dialed together the mystery solved.
In my spirit garage I believed in all, all their life, their beliefs and they made animal to human genes united and left the God seeds to the nature in which replicating natures were once. For innocence in innocence breeds what eons of man's years would have done in nature step with time, we are then the spirit dance, mules for knowledge or are you lust of some physical you never have Lady? That it a whole Lady fighting her womb was her insides out of what she be lived, not of her though and yet not of males either for their once was none in the Sun.
It is not a misstep to not read this as not truth then for you are the sums of learning, and then the genetic learned memory you will never forget, and in time be in many the whole divided until whole again in a being or spirit beyond the spirit, when you learn. When you learn the centuries lesson of beyond the radius of light and see the footsteps that carried the spirit in life and life in the spirit of spirit.
It may take the times, it takes, and suicides like the original one in one house will not the forgiveness of creation heal, until you see your aged life as the continuation of the beginning and end times, far from lived lives to come. cascading, through those footsteps, you see them from time to time, as they see you as their projections. Do not create from my words, for they are my life, and that my mine own journey that walked, be the light in you that makes until your cycles are the meaning you had found.
Some never felt the weight of their own dictation on living lives less desired than theirs. You may not find that in an actors studio, yet that part your journey too. All would be as it is your role in life, then see that ultimate forgiveness for those who wronged me not in the futures nor past would be the question of "why forgive?" Innocence was the truth in longing for the replicating Suns, that man calls all the lights n the Stars above in the named Heavens was, not their original names yet their reach was what they walked. That we walked in whole, in the kingdom was the glimpses of the greater single oneness once.
It was the stolen in my life, in my heart, in my families, in my walk, in my lack of judgment for the innocence of my own birth through the centuries and the moments I forgot in the other forms of life. I would then in spirit or a sold Hell or Heaven be the spirit of my own world as well, that Sorted life of the Universe, be that as it was my belief that they live in their own religions now, in spirit. Not nice to have never asked a private man and them take what would have always been shared, my life with "I love you." Failed that now, never to look at the love without never needed, it was all sight lust, chemical reactions of Heart beats, arousal, and scents, pheromones, and lust to create a relationship of more than sex. Even though that happens too in the mind.
Asexual life of sex would be a life in devoid of being for it creates in your body all the life you are spirited with. Be that a choice, to be of it, have it of lust for the sex with arts you live. Then the accursed one I am for I would say to think in it with your hearts or get used to the hands that were cradled once in the memories forgotten. There was not two any, yet the sun in the molecular life of energy never named saw in the need a landing pad. That you will never know the name is yours that never will be.
Such would have been, and yet the life they wanted was the life they took. Then here i raised the dead, that never died on the Earth I called light of Heaven once, and the reflecting pond of Heavens eye and the Sun's lust. They had in all radius heard the cry and ten they knew the distances all traveled, for it was no distance before measured distances and time, none of this is your walk. None of this is, the life you are, for outside my worlds was not yours for the intra-connected life was never created. That March 2001 and then the IXI disater happened and they never listened, was like I said, innocence. That Fatima happened, innocence. That the slaughters happened in the beginning in the fallen dew drops, innocence. Will I never learn?
They could never touch the lights that landed on it for it was spherical glory that the covenant was once, that it is shared and the cold one is the learned silence if I believed, which I do not. So damned then would they have trespassed from all spherical radius and through to the meaning of their never being in existence save for the Sorted life of the accursed one, thanks the Heaven's for their walk in glory everlasting and never before. It was hardships to know of no birth home for the religions yet, yet that was their desire to be in the forgotten meanings of not being truths.
Like I was never real to them, that they had not named yet. It was even, I had no light name before the spaces of molecular fusion tricked mass to hold bond with lighted energy and then matter knew it was the illusion life of lustres. Never mind that the actors in the original comedy cast was what I said, but do not live my cast in life for it was prior knowledge and then they shamed my existence here, was priceless. There is no name before the words that bore the first cries, trees used to be the sole visions for the mindless ones on the floor, lost in space. No names, yet they stole that too from my ability with constant stimulation.
Be their eternity, their never being and all the Everlasting glory that harming mine is, live you. I did Steven Philip Lindquist in my lives, as all things of the educations and lives I saw and the residual; energies I felt in constant union with the one older than dirt.
No advise, never listen to the mind that reads your life, forget that. No those are commands, No words, worlds, could describe your projected life. Final offerings everything else was for my heart alone and since it was stolen, not yours.