Sansha felt the pangs of anxiety grip her chest as she alike tried to grasp and grip and cling onto Thorstar, smothering feeble flickering embers with her fears of him slipping away again. Wisps of a memory, telegram bread crumbs, they all evaded her clutching fists as she sank back into the seas of swirling emotional discomfort. Sitting in the depths of her melancholy, lost in the Neptunian illusory oceans of fog and shame from the chaotic storms that brewed through her dream-space.
Yet this time, she didn’t drown with the fishes. The iridescent light of consciousness illuminating her futile defensive jagged barbs, in place to protect her from the pain of repeated rejection and uncertainty.
The fog lifted through the deep red hues from the etching of Mari and Yeshua, her gift from her angel friend residing at a neighbouring castle. The angels took hold of her hands infusing her with warmth from the mulberry tones opening her heart once more, reintegrating her soul-shine.
Neptune’s raging deluges from her ferocious passions began to subside once more, the water clearing fresh pathways , neural networks exploring new territory marrying her intuition with clear-sight as she charted her pilgrimage toward consecrated caves, cliffs and pools of healing waters in foreign ancient lands. Tracking the heavens along the dragon lines.
‘A crossroads: of the vertical with the horizontal’. Oronos signalled. ‘And the almighty Omega.’
Another initiatory rung on her Jacob’s ladder, toward grace, toward her cosmic home-coming. Her creations depended upon her vibratory output and unleashing the fullness of her ascending tenets of expression. Surfing the waves of Solomon’s song, she chose joy regardless of circumstance. Personifying the wisdom she had gained along her path to succour the seeds of growth as the healer she knew she was.
Sansha was who she was: light and dark laid bare.
'What part of me, don't you know.' She exclaimed aloud.
To some extent unreliable, boundary-less and un-contained, still learning, mastering… and yet love poured through and out of her, a continuum from the prime creator. She felt the myriad of nuanced shine and shadow in those around her flow through her very being, learning how to root in her resolve had been so crucial to avoid being swept away by the torrent of currents in the collective winds of change.
And in removing another layer of the mask of her societal persona, she alight the wings of Egron soared toward atzilut, toward Azenath in a state of metanoia with all others from her clan who had heard the clarion call. The light from the divine creator through the portal of her cosmic cave of wisdom, shining bright to clear the clouds.
Of course, she wished Thorstar would just speak ! In her daydreams she caressed his neck, kissing lightly his jaw line and throat, her heart’s longing like the Magdeburg cups: fused with his. The spiritual force withstanding mighty horse-power of clouded dreams and delusions on the earth plain. Phosphorescent light sparks repelling, yet tied and heated, increasing in intensity and vibrancy ascending parallel sushumna rods toward plasma fusion and alchemical release in mergeance with ethereal realms.
The omega arc: calling in completion, consummation, anchoring of cosmic intimacy for all those leaving behind heartaches from the path of destructive demise through materialistic addictions, cravings, obsessions, from carrying the weight of the heavens on their shoulders entrenched in their identification with persona. The desires of the Ozarks, those ‘off’ the arc of the covenant: disconnected, disassociated and deafened to the word, to our gifted role as caretakers and earth-keepers, light-bringers and peace-dealers. Resurrection, a love revolution glimmered ahead for those who walked the path of the way, the truth and the light. For those who shone and did not burn.
Aon Neach, Aon Ghuth, Aon Ghaol.
One People, One Voice, One Love.