Where Does the Truth Rest It's Head?

A Poem by Bonnie

20% of my thoughts on this subject typed.

Where Does the Truth Rest It’s Head?

“Under trembling stones of emerald!” The imagined man depressed my morality,

And I no longer feel uneasy - for if a rock will puncture my foot to bleed,

How much more shame is there to feel after improperly handling circumstances when tragedy strikes my ego? My ‘truth’? He speaks of unproven ideas but the hierarchy understands his motive- in hope to share wisdom. In respect, confidence should be taken as a whole when facts support their rightful place, for example, the multiple dimensions and historical evidence of humans pursuing a higher energy field, which usually are ‘in hope’ to find a specific divine wisdom gently embellished with perception. How beautiful. As my own mass artistry birthed from honesty’s vigor-bitten lessons, I

disassociate from false illusions lead to nights removing skin in belief to cure impurities wrapped between my ears, looped like a bow. Toxins upon toxins partaking in my build up for dignity, plagued was I sitting in earth-time. Listless of past years I learned the wicked is solely casted from tattered strands of pink silk composing man’s lips. No longer anxious, I mimic the man standing with his head drawn back, looking up at the stars. “It feels good to be heard, doesn’t it?”

My god responded in 8th century C.E.,

‘The lips of wisdom are closed except to the ears of understanding.” The revolutionary Thoth held hands with the extraordinare Infinite Nine Lords of Consciousness. I wish to intertwine fingers with him, Thoth, and any other forms of divine wisdom. For if I have to walk alone I’m giving up, I cannot stay here knowing love is not enough.

By time I am ripped into this world,

yet I aimlessly wander an unguided waste land avoiding what I was,

There is no place for a hollow man.

Coherent shame framed my reasoning apropos of mistaking suppositions to be of more value than a set promised truth. Too many nights bandaging slits from philosophy that stained my skin. In the twilight of pain I dug in my parent’s ruby red couches looking for unadmirable gems potentially squelched under the seats. Let me tell you, illusions from humanity prompt our youth’s hunt for pearls of acceleration, one-by-one, instinctively uniting for a cry on behalf of souls who chase a throne cherished by gems. But I, a rebel at heart, stoned by man himself, will never sympathize with shimmering creatures of the night causing either pain or fear. Not one voice removed colors in the sky nor thanked the reliability of truth. A wise man is he who knows power within silence supremes, rather than a bitter frequency written not in love, but men joined by a wish to be obeyed in the eyes of one, in the eyes of all, in the eyes of his priority.

But today is planned before my time so I thank the Sun for the angry man’s underestimation, my soul can never forgot the God of Wisdom’s voice. He sought for me by light rays. Say hello to Heaven,

“Then in my heart grew a great longing to

Conquer the pathway that led to the stars.

Year after year, I sought after wisdom,

Seeking new knowledge, following the way,

Until at last my soul, in great travail,

Broke from its bondage and bounded away.” - Emerald Tablets IV(Atlantean to English).

If the rain took over - mighty tears born of Zeus - not then would I contribute to this Holy sacrifice, no, not even a tear. To incorporate waste in gifts from the gods, bodies of water dry to drops- inhibiting the Muse’s dance with the waves.

And from their deliberate practice of love, a sea awaits us - ethical, unselfish, and non-requesting. Death not an enemy is life’s wellspring between every hour, hoping man is unbound like his heart’s mission. Death stands in love with the Sun’s children as they flourish in Cosmos of Insight within the Dweller, but I am of Haku.

Ego please veil our moonlight and choose not to blame death, for patterns of before still stand to be true and only through consciousness shall man live past immortality.

Be of the Higher, abide with tranquility, exist for the Infinite.

No strife to burn bridges, the Universe’s forever-blossoming Flame anticipates ignition.