Wings OfThe Soul

FlashlightInParallax
tags

a paragraph at zero minus 4 back in time from birth; Through the

eyes

day and night, solstice and equinox, existence before birth, ascendant astrology, spirit fledging wings, soul's harp, parachute of parallax, parsec of sight Breakout, into orbit Backing-up the staircase of generations into the heavens other than that physical gestation, somewhat in parallel at the sling of the year swept from birth what to some is paranormal, I live in a restorative mental reality as the hand of my soul trows that spectral frisky from the darkness of space for an orbit for the ecliptic landing strip. Living in the spirit of my yolk, I have come a long way since on a journey in an accelerating spin from the drop of the moon light river of Milk and

04
of a child

Through the eyes of a child Honey. In orbit and fledging a tornado wing my flying saucer in metamorphosis from that bungee jump from the will of my soul, I moved away from home base, the Capricorn oasis of mother where I journeyed before stepping out in an astronaut slim protective space suite for the infinite gray-blues of space with a thin umbilical cord from the mother ship. I prowl for the ecliptic path expecting nothing else than leaving the security district where nothing seems to go wrong, while burgeon like a flower with fleecy petals of clouds for my protection against the rapacious zodiacal predators building a tornado the furthest region prone to attacks or, moments of bad luck Yet! never too far seeing my soul's presence reflected in the canopy of my parachute and the flashlight beams from mother's searching eyes.

Russian dolls bubbles

While my flying saucer fledges wings for my entry into the jet stream of the earth and approach for landing to be born, mother's waxing moon regard eclipses far distant paradisaic oasis and sends me a flashlight beam watching over my wellbeing as I stroll in the night through bushwhacked alley decors of zoological bubbled up constellatory wild animals. In an isolated moonless night mood, alone in this vast hostile universe where extinct monsters of the past left their tracks to refined organs that are branched in the current generations of life, I am in the trail of the current generation in the wake of the spinning earth and kept by reflection in the canopy of my parachute the telescopic crosshairs of eyesight slip over the targeted whiskers of mother's subjective-self resident on the face of the earth. My flying saucers in orbits around the sun is deviated off course by the specter of an eventual biological equatorial clock through the fluctuating gender moods seasoned by the yang of the solstice swells and the yin of equinox troughs, susceptible in building up a good understanding of my ancestors in soap bubbles that popped and spread their life of sight Parsec beam long acquisition up in thin air I am the result of these gases of a quasar building up the galactic Parachuting the spirit in us butterfly wings of opposing ice cold and fire hot synergies' fixation at a point in these 2

Russian dolls bubbles invisible Russian doll that foams life's existence seen in the immaterial universe and like the relay in the rocky mountains on the hemisphere of mother's Capricorn in the year of the Monkey from an astrological ascendancy point bubbled up in her oasis aliens souls of all the monsters of body part that like the anaconda which coils and reflects a digestive system inside the dragon of a tree trunk of which a cluster in leaf branch reflects a central brain from the fell tree lying in the swamps and metamorphosing the spatial in leaf branches to reflect lungs, feeding jaws of brushwood the content of the ground that reflect a survivor who's twigs of claws uprooted and the branches of limbs crawled with the help of the climatic change.

A stage of transparency before matter

In a world of transparency and density of light turning into matter, the tangible has reduced our senses of perception whereas the soul has maintained that ability to transit through space and touch our Current generation minds much like electronics are taking another dimension away from us, that of thinking and the motor that brought humanity out of the dragon of a tree. The soul's butterfly wings out of a developing quasar cloud and in constant change there shadowing my spirit like a lonely cloud in the sky on a hot sunny day my developing yolk's Start of life "0" saucer as the risers to the links of the suspension lines to the skirt of the parachute canopy the butterfly veins fledging feathery fingers that strokes across the cords of the harp orchestrating a blooming flying saucer to unfurled cognitive prims refraction of evolution that occurred in the fauna and flora of life on earth for the next generations to reap the fruits of my life.

Soul mates
The objective-self of mother's soul provides that telepathic notion of a soul mate through my open naive existence earing through the walls of my sphere the echo of an orchestration soul playing for the development of the yolk with my spirit in exchange for directives and exchange of electric pings while residing in the capsule of my yolk fledging the wing of a flying saucer.

Generation prism

Spirit on a journey
In retrospective of the

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Magnetic field

Through the eyes of a child yolk that resulted from a frog plop of a drop on a transparent water glaze that will take the effects of a ceramic cooking surface after an earlier generation of a mother and father The naked eye of a yellow yolk (inset #1 the heating of metal particles luminescence) drifted off on the oily surface with electric streams outreaching afar shy and invisible beneath the surface (inset #2 the electronic element and its magnetic filed) to notice the frimbia distill out of the spatial gray-blue infinite a fungi like foil that fledged a saucer landing wing which brings me to an intercontinental flight confronted to a sand storm which, to my surprise rose to leveling with our trajectory. I watched the wing tip fling while buckled in our seats people were screaming for life as the aircraft fell through one air pockets after the other, which to me demonstrated a stress test and enjoying a thought for the engineers behind the concept.

Parental selection
before the egg yolk, in the spectral Offspring spheres of an atomic structured Choice of assemblage is offset with a chaotic mother movement the moment which by clairvoyant predictions is the opening of a Father telescopic pipe to another soul to a mere (Capricorn) physical bypass rather than a Here is the representative rendezvous. These virtual occurrence stemmed glass of the zodiacal have a sense of mystery, a glass prism/pyramid Mother reflection superimposing a seeming (Capricorn) reality in the context of a reality inception occurs much in the aftermath of the will of the soul As if the soul of the offspring is in charge and through the the crosshairs of a telescopic pipe, he is determining his future in selecting in one angle his potions on fathers, at another angle his potion for a mother, calculating a synoptic chart to a symbiotic existence and calculated risk toward his destiny. The parents meet into the future with a fertilization of the female egg, the wits of the soul with domino effect foresight a 3D cubic chest board and calculating a strategy from the six faces of a dice the code is 7. Every move selects the highest probability of choice once into that dimension of the living there where the body is a fort build and keeping up with modernity in terms of a system where everything is foreign and brings out an army to fight the intrusion when out of a pool of swimming tadpole creatures one is sought out to swim past the barrage of a dam like a salmon single minded upstream to pass the finishing line, the selected sperm is given all the directives carrying in his race the flame that will kindle by a synergistic electric shock fertilizing the female 4

Russian dolls bubbles egg.

specter of the Atomium

On the 2D face of the chest board, an inconceivable reality shows perpendicular to the encircled mother Father and father the circle that tops those parents Capricorn-Warthog in a triangulation the offspring an erroneous perception to be left over in the Mother 3D chest board. The image is somewhat Capricorndifferent and the best place to be is in the Monkey middle with a universal cycloramic view and River the spot with the harp of the soul at pulling Of strings and model its directives from a body Honey and Dosage with eight spectral limbs to eight slaveMilk heads from a brainy middle and ninth master sphere of organ monsters living with Drips just as many a flows of Honey and Milk .

Karmic regions

Drop

Yolk amongst the various Russian Dolls of the family in mother's universe of her zodiacal oasis where from the highest peaks of the rocky mountains flows the confluent streams of the motherly spirit from the past generations that backup in a delta and overseeing an ocean glaze to the lies of the next generation higher.

Before my transcendent and destined touchdown in the axis a year earlier, unprepared for that ferocious planetary reception that blew apart in the storm the wing of my flying saucer with lightning and hurled the fireball of memory the whole of an atomic mushroom like setting fire to a dynamite stick in a balloon that is going to become my bubble for life after which the calming rain ended in a lucky atmospheric spell an area that will bear a good karma in the path where mother's anxiety resign after the synergistic candle flame dancing through the turbulent journey through the zodiac from being stifled in unfortunate jars from a lack of oxygen. In the year of maturity, I came to notice to peak toward my proper ascendancy in the Libra, after which like with my ankles clipped to a bungee, I jumped from the bridge on my birthday on the ecliptic path to wards the furthest stretch of the elastic, and as sure as I lived, nothing prevented me to fall in a spot of bad luck, Which at first to link the bridge at the extremes of the rocky hills of her Capricorn on the landscape tilt of her Monkey and father's oasis nine years off in the hemisphere of the Warthog. 5