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The called cauldron of colors in the strobe lights of flashings twice around the hands of time

Updated on May 4, 2016

Brothers and sisters

look to your tree and see that the past, present, future and the tomorrows are in unison of learned scholars shake the hands that feed them as well. It was wild in the dens of time yet a gentle breeze swept through the wind and spoke of the needs for the roots to come clean on the ancient truths and that flowers are beauty is true and wombs like the truth of seeds of the tree as well.

Sister, you would see in your life the beauty brother would as well and know that in the flesh risen life is descended to the core in many forms and in that you would wonder what color am I in my robes of truth. flowers in the garden are often nature's hand to churn out rebirth, rarely of man and other sister. Nature had handed man and all creation a weapon in intelligence and thinking to think of more than thoughtful ways in life. Yet that was the gift dearest and most adept learned more than equal ones.

In brother I had seen the winds of the stone mountains and then that the diamond was stretched to the wings of the meaning of compacted and expanded diamonds in more than the four directions, then the wings in life to flight be true. Be gentle then and anger when the anger is needed so the poison does not make the bitter life of lies and truth to hide a scar. I would speak on the other side of the light to light that side as light as well. For the inverse of the universe was the nexus of the one truth and meeting called forth by more than just a lie, it had purpose and if theory serves the right of thought then be true here to yourself, or fly to your own medicine in truth.

Family, that you danced in the wild, spread like wild fire to the winds and minds of others was the life that was giving and taken. Know that assignments are often in the eight stages and then the churning needs are of the organism that we, that see it are thanks to be. Thanks as a gratitude and that you are all the thanks I would ever need in flesh. I am not damned in any of this and know you not either, for the sides are drawn and in the illusion the trees be so gentle the teacher to the flowers that envy height and stature. That they are sometimes ancient n their following humanity and constant as the flowers in life are, is outside the limit of repeating.

To see the flowers all in the ground and wind in chorus of their birth rite is like the herds of humanity following signs of all colors in life, like the forests that made life them ready to live. That I would have spoken to my sister of her own tree in, that she an aspect of my psychology in the multiverse is known. That time is in between us in years and education and lineage in the wings would have put part her on hold and the aspect mine here in her to work out issues of grave importance. Her education is equal to mine, that we lived at all is the education.

Brothers in nature, hard to tell the flower sexes of the distance sights much like the confusion of labels led to stray a thoughtful heart, yet not a statue of greatness neither, just a sea. See that it is just as chaos allows it brother, in that you would know what it is in nature, to that an edict would never follow save to heed all my words as poison and lied truths to confusion the flowers in the garden. I know my side of the inverted life of carpet farming for paths to the fields of the gods. That they made them gods was the meaning that they are experiencing the issues at hand, no offense and none that a truth would take. Flowers, like seeds from trees are spread far and wide sometimes in nature, by all sorts of crafty devils.

That the branch and I did see a squirrel fall from a branch to the floor, the strangest thing to behold just "plop." The branch must have given way when I said it was a living life organism in constant and catch up being. That you run to your self in the pasts you leave and rarely see yourself as the garden or trees, plants, and companions is rarely. Constant to the life of all matter and the imprinted memories and signatures of beliefs.

No harm in the garden, yet a sinister intention was plotted to do a meaning to serve another and that was an undoing and what was in nature of that which did to do. That blame lies and lays with the blame prior to the creation would be the chaos and that would have no hand in my blaming a word for creation since chaos merely a word and chaos in the raw is unspeakable to man. It would swallow the meaning of the entire, well none would know see it. The flowers of the heavens like the jewels of the blankets are often made and sometimes wrinkled in the night to clouds illusions. Pinpoint gems of flowers and in unison summoned to thought or a curio of mention.

Had all but the tree blooming mimicked life been seen after the hues of the lightning storm passes? I would lay down some knowledge of mine own to aid in the choir. Truth a courage and fear was needed to isolate the herd and which the herd to figure be the pray, then know that twice round the fountain of nature was rung the rings of more than seed heads. Spears like the fibers of hair to grass and leaf again in the reunion of the rite of many thoughts of choices rendered and offers pleaded, then beseech a snake to wing two hearts of the same fashioned branch.

I would this in my branches, sit and swing and lay down wreathes at my sisters fathers inside them that she walks as my persona in her as I am part her personification of thoughts as well, like the projection of our parted learned houses. We should in step walk or in thinking be as well to each other as handshakes are to the plastic spooning of forced food. That you would not lay down a laurel wreath at my beckoning would suit me well for I made them for myself as women in past and futures, so no harm befall the giftless giver and then received of nothing for that once was beauty, the spirit. Had it been tainted in the heart just by one Eros? Or had fortune befell a devil to torment a heart in jest of judgment and make a heart be true anyways, that the shame is theirs in acing is outright. That they may be programmed to a single pig headed track is their walk and themselves the burden of her, mine to bare as witness for eternity the cost of belief.

I would as friends to them all be and yet as the garden some are coveted priced blossoms and some transplanted to other gardens to spread joy and life in the lifeless. Free of charge often with the hands of one or many. i would not speak in riddle here, gardening is man's knowledge more than a barren land with no seed would be a women's house. Had then thought made them be in other camps, not the bother all houses are in the life of love and not the purvey of the elders for many a culture in time bore many a tradition that they lifted and in practice private. Such flowers to dance in the wind and then the closed open and judge like a stuck pig the meat of another, had then they not their own house to find flesh of dead plants to eat and suckle? I am a true friend, words, they are like children, they often scoff and become in some ways like their parents, strong and curious. I once heard a child say "I hate my [insert name]." Well later I witnessed them playing and later, them in years much the same speech. Not much changes in the garden, the "telephone game" was the oldest tradition in the garden and no one even knew who was mad, for the miles traveled would not be reached.

Such would then be lost. Children seem to still and adults, myself included the telephone game, more than 5000 years old. oral traditions of passing down information was another genetic tool of the garden yet those messages often were never totally heard by the sleepers. Do not be upset for the genetic bridge to the past was that they, the past were the tools to be and the core, much is needed here for education of gardening. It is early and the next would be kept in the nature changed. No harm, and truth I am not the being to be hurt anymore as I had expected it on arrive and now it is gone.

Then know that this, I am not trying to invade anyone's farm, yet if a farm has five arms and a planet more than five elements and three hands too many on the digest of composting lives, then what is the cultivar like in the mixed blood plantings? Nothing of this is the work of yours, it is the quest for futility that I speak for many would not see anything save for their education in the words I write, and then know that it is that that makes them the trap of natures law of a floor is a floor or a door is the floor to the reincarnated homes of the pasts and all waste. that you dared write a script that nature made whole was nature's hand, yet a trap to the land as well. that is why no forgiveness was needed yet given to everyone and all matter, even the spirit of the nature of the past.

a poem

that thou art art more than the sums of Suns

and that you art more than thee in thine own tree

would to mine own tree bee and sea

then in that you would ponder

be then thee in thee with me

mine own twin in the citadel

the one, two and three to eight was enough

yet that was around the been again

not a stance to stanza yet hands to handle

it was shaken in the leafs.

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