Nothing you do is out of love, love(the word) as a watered down version of what began to end once and for all but not for naught for what is, as it should be, is this, the water weight of a word.

Everything you ever experience arises out of itself as only love permits.

Any and all emotional investment towards thee ideal* actualization of a *thought produces what is current, sea? Creative inspiration is the condensate of a current-sea dynamo. Make-Shift reiterations galore containing the only thing you need to grow what I am giving you, a blessing which works autonomously as a thought form grown from seed. I aspire to inspire this defined-ably certainty within you by the mere stroke of a passing fancy, a whimsical “2wo DEW jus’T’his” bidding on magnanimously humble grounds based out of all that inconceivabullshit you’ve ever dreaded and abhorred IN ORDER to WOW all that is identifiable as sprouting from thee illusion of attachment… AND THIS, then is what have you as ]A-WISH[ comma [bardo beginning within]. Now that I am inside you and bursting chakric gates from without, I must confess something entirely true as the guilt of gain which teaches you the pain of loss, and that is this, that I AM IN LOVE with YOU, only.

Please, forgive me…


Beyond belief… transcendent of understanding… ultra-mega hyper-meta. Pleasing pressing into peace… intense grace. Get it, got it? Good.

Be the cause.


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