As we move from one
intention to another,
we change frequencies.
alters our perception of
alters, we don’t start over
but we start anew.
Because the window of heaven remains open, if only a crack, the intention thickens with light in a weaving, helical motion. The miracle of a single thought, apart from all others, wavering in and out of existence. The sheer bravery of an intent to know.
Turning in on itself, because it slowly realizes it has that freedom, it hears its own voice for the first time, whispering “I exist. I exist. I exist”. And it thickens even more, with more light. And it almost begins to feel itself feeling how good it feels. A ghosted memory of things to come.
Slowing down, it separates. And as it separates, it grows. It strengthens. And as it enlarges it draws on substance from all directions, at last even the curious radiance of the lower mind.
Behind its ethereal back, the window of heaven moves micron slightly and pauses, sensing an alien presence, as the great one behind the window lets out an unearthly sigh. A breeze of nothing shudders against the window as a ripple of sound penetrates descending layers and layers of encrusted realities, a ripping sound that resembles “This Is. This Is. This Is.”
A holy frequency freed.
A blood-flooding kiss.