The flame does not go out

The light of the sacred candle

Does not go out, ever.

Even when in seeming

Extinguished, vanquished, lost to envy.
None may keep it, and in knowing
Quench, but for attempt.
They, unsatisfied by age to pass age
Ageless still; remains, trembles, quivers, licks

Life stabs through ascensions; dripping times, ages, sands of the hours Day & Night.
Space that may not follow, when attempting either vacuous or seeming bright.
Space would keep and multiply

To say, See, there, I preserve thee and I call out Genius unopposed, supposing not else.
Simply put, the artifact of happenstance with original
Article Genuine wavered, stammered, stifled, stiffened.
Brittle, crumbling, gone, but traded for wax alone.
Even when in seeming, keeping, sought for kept to be.
The ageless spark dance alight ever renewed and still.
Elsewhere but to seekers found within

Whose arching radius of selves once multiplied.

Time and every age; in whittling down to the Vision, never alight external to begin with of hidden strength extended.
Reflecting not the initial concept of transfer; so Time lesser & lesser,
Seeming at last extinguished but to the identity in Ages.

Such is the Ruler's Envy. Her Dystopian self-proclaiming Keepers...

Such Ruler know not the nature of the agelessly sacred, hidden reality of Her spark extending in Myself.

Aligned, coordinated, integrating, unifying.

Corridors bouncing along, wall and shaft, reflected beams.

Tunnels, mirrors; object relinquished.
Counterpoint tarry before the fall.
Succumbing to lesser quandary.
Attempts die to age.

Ages' full release, space into space.

Met here, this one becoming.

A Thing not going out, ever.

No longer sought to have need for pulling in.

The flickering, subtle ambiance of the full release;

Fiery whirlpools relinquish then, but to give back urge

Of multiplied preservation contrivance.

Constant, dynamic, fluxing, flowing steady in me focusing beyond, loss comes sharp.
Only to envision in visage free retaining; She does not extinguish.

Ever, the natural vanquish of my lesser radiant being, to Gift each other the one-greatest...

When shall I at last be free?

When shall I at last be free?

Perhaps in total realization of the Great Work?

Will some Sage approach me to tell me at that point I'm dead?
What an easy, predictable response to get others who also misquote
And read into Everything to agree with him that he is a great Sage.
Very easy to nod your head to; A fallen angel

Who makes himself into a Big Fish in a Shallow Pond.

What if we were born in spacious bodies of water?
Not oceans, or even lakes necessarily...
Yet, ultimately comfortable to all of us; enough so freedom is generally agreed upon happening.
All that is killing this aquatic, vast fresh air supply,

Is all of these who parade as self aggrandized Sages,

Out to tell us how to return to vaster bodies of water.

We, lodged between.

No demon but the Holy Man.

What great New Chosen One, to swallow himself up to not existing.

Choosing to be as relevant as an 8 year old child at a Presidential Inauguration.

I think this should by my Discipline, solely.
Thank me in another lifetime

When we may again become confused over the Fallen, Free, Great, and actual Sacred.

In the Vast, such notions neither relevant nor quotes about them to lodge ourselves tight between.
Sardines screaming to all the oceans of stars, I'm God! I'm Me! I Think! Therefore, I'm Free!.
What stuffy, soggy prison, indeed.

What If There Is No End?

What if there is no end?
In sight, adrift.

Maybe even alone.

Already so far from ideal,

Now also, no crew?
There was a time when the issue was
Ends were certain; even made up monsters of pure mind.
World's Endings.

Which men stepping on board asked my question instead?

Rather than, How will we deal with the certain ends?
To depart at all; not knowing in the foggiest,

One had to say, We burn that bridge when we get to it.

At once the most ill-prepared Genius and the most prophetic Fool of clear aim.
I suppose regardless of station after it was discovered
There is No End in sight to the real nature of Life,

He became the Captain for the return voyage Home.

Many men will easily fit the station of departing Captain.
To the Home Captain,
you will find the Best of Life,

even if the condition is tenser than initial departure from port cities.
By the Best of Life; the Nature of the Real Sight is implied to travel with wherever
His Wherewithal takes Him,
Ever Home without Ending.
Now, do you finally see?

All My Relations
All my relations.
Unto you I thank most of all.
The forgotten part of the Ancestors.
Gods, of old dream thought gone.
Proof those pieces fit together.
I am not so far gone.
I'm not the Forgotten, after all.

Red and Gold basis and core.

Reminds me of the part of myself, and I am my lodge.
My Lodge is All. My family; everything to me.
My family is World Tribe, and my Tribe is all People.
I love my family, though in parts, not forgotten to me.
Who they are, all that I ever was or will be.
To not be black, is to not exist but foreign to Soul.
To not be white, is to take from that which did not exist, when it had been dazzling.
Red is the blood, and the sacred land.
The gold is first seen in the Far East.
Even the winds; a nation and also my People.
No one understands, except the People of the Winds.
Some of the Rainbow of the World Tribe, though...
They will go to the seas, the waves.
Somewhere between the depths and flying high
They'll become in themselves the parts unknown.
Thought of Self no longer Forgotten.
Become into Soul's Depths.
The Body, releasing in the West as All & Everything,
is reborn in Winds and Waves catching golden rays of the rejoining
Rebirth in the East.
We are all One People.
I had forgotten myself, before.
I was recalled and rejoined in the depths of the World Tribe Soul.
Who says we are not One People?
That one hates their own soul.
Their one peace is controlling East from a palace in the West
West from thrones in the East.
That one hates themselves, to be known within by getting you to forget without.
Forcing you to exist; only as a black, a white, a red, a yellow.
If saying 'One World' is the most frightening
Thing you've heard,
then in your own house; brothers and sisters, mothers and fathers, cousins and the grands They must drive you to kill, or bow to their god.
I would rather kill.
First, I would have changed over time into their god...
We live in that god ever seeking our own release dragon swallowing his own self.
The reflection you see in the mirror.
It is One People.
You are a One World organization of thought.
One which, over time is changing into their god.
Some will recall You together.

Selections previewed from upcoming full volumes

When it comes to art and personal evolution, either you are mastering yourself constantly,
or you are being conned into any existence except your own.

Von Kotterhausen