The human mind of manifest consciousness is ripe with the desire to know itself fully. This desire will torment those who do not have the information they need to start down the long path of self-discovery.

But information will always be waiting in the wings for the prophets of the time, and those who have ability are called up. If you are alive, you have been called up now. No one is alone, and none are acting alone.

Many are looking for a remedy. Some live with serious plagues of poverty, or troublesome health, or thoughts that will always lead them to the brink of despair.

Others are here with purpose not yet known to them. They are in need of a greater reason to trust in this Universe with all their beingness. They fight for freedom from a captivity of which they are not even aware.

Divided concepts are the battleground, for no thought that is not complete will survive the rebalancing of the human condition. But to conquer a divided thought means nothing, if you also divide the population. You will need more than simple concepts in order to divide and conquer.

We are right in time to mount that campaign, to plant these seeds of changing consciousness alongside those who know themselves as the prophets of the day. If you know yourself as this, then ready your words, your actions, and your timeframe, for tomorrow arrives sooner than you think.

Words are a necessary part of the transition. A voice is a carefully constructed instrument. It must be tuned, and tuned again. With each passing age, a new timber must be found and learned. Through words, you speak to the minds of those who know, but have no voice to sing out truth.

Action leads you to time these events within your own life, and to engage, when all else is turning inside out. Waiting will not reveal the timing.

Playing the odds is nothing you need be concerned with. Studying and watching for signs set forth in the Bible, or in any other proper statement of the prophets, will never ready you for this time.

These changes will come, whether or not you have a good grasp on the time frame. For we all stand and pay homage to the universal laws of supply and demand.

Oceans will drip from your watching eyes, and the very earth beneath your feet will sing in tune with the sorrow of her population’s pain. Loss and fear will reign.

In the moments ahead, when words will be the only comfort found, who will know just how to soothe the hearts of men, or calm the minds of children searching for the arms of their mother?

Trembling will start in small vibrations, but will escalate in torturous wrenching screams. But first comes the sound of absence.

Have you ever heard this sound before? It is as if all has gone silent, for the intake of breath before the exhalation of the storm. The fury of the storm will heighten. It will cull the masses, but know now that it will never end the human race. For only through this culling will the thought process of humanity ever blossom forcefully again.

Can you imagine this? If so, you are a part of its conclusion. Those who think it is but fantasy are the very ones who nurture its repression.

To repress is to allow the festering, thus enabling events that margin nothing of the magnitude of human repression. But if you are clean and well tended, then no amount of festering will result. To cleanse is to revitalize.

The glut of repressive thought is matched by the cleansing thought of the human intention to remain alive, in order to seek and to learn, through the medium of the physical experience of self. Time and time again, this match, this balance, this cleansing must be made.

A well-balanced world will permit and temper all thought, without the fight for one’s life that most now consider the only means of survival. There will be no winner, only the rebalancing of one world, made for all. Help will be available in many forms, through many distinct channels and lines of communication, when the world begins to awaken once again.

Why are you present in this moment, in this time when all is going to extinguish itself to start anew? Perhaps only to witness these events and live to tell the tale – a most important mission. Perhaps to sing out to this world a warning, or a tune to dance to, as the sinking ships are lost from view.

We think perhaps that you are one who knows these events have meaning in the hearts and minds of those who will live to be the pillars of the next incarnation of this Earth, and the world that lives upon it, and the people that do the living that enables all to begin again.

A fine-tuning must start now, and end within the time frame of right away. This is nothing too far fetched for one who has waited for so long to catch their star, as it rises from the ashes of so many past incarnations.

If this is truly your answer, then you are the one we know you to be, and this is the reading of the last agreement. Life is better than personal history has led you to believe – for you are a master after all.

Without the telling of your personal tale,
how would you suit yourself?

Would it be in armor,
or in the garb of the meek?

Would it be in the purple robes of royalty,
or in the ashen rags of the prophet?

There is nothing more solemn
than the human journey,

and nothing more joyous
than human triumph.

Contained within this one verse are words that align the Spirit to the human condition. But such words have fallen into disfavor, until the time when all hearts and minds will hold a better vision.

It all starts with the tuning of the vibration, and ends with the clearing of the mind. For to know Spirit is to know the Self, in all manifestations of all the qualities it holds. A very personal work of art, indeed.

An age of man!
Oh great and glorious wheel
of ever changing delight.
May I be present
when you grind all to dust once more,
to fill the fields with possibilities,
fertile and abundant,
for the consumption of the race of man
again and again,
and yet again.

~~~

I am ready to listen …
And so the sound is invited.

When musical instruments first came into fashion, there were only symbolic means of communication. The earliest musical instruments still lay undiscovered. But this means of communication had long been anticipated, for anticipation is the way we receive vibrational information.

At that time, the word vibration was not known. But it was concluded that there were particles or waves of information that preceded sound, that entrained the mind. And the point was to listen. But for some there needs to be a humming first, a reason or purpose to turn their attention toward the vibration of coming events.

Thus the sympathetic nature entrains the audio long before the visual transmits pictures. And the picture is the sum total of vibration. But there precedes before all sound an inaudible vibration, as if a tuning fork is calling all to attention.

I called forth a Musical Tone, and I received that sound which pleased me best.

Each and every one alive is calling forth such information. And they will receive that information according to the quality they themselves have honed, and the ability they themselves have learned to loosen. For sympathetic vibration counts on every level of manifestation.

If I ask for devastation, my information will be colored as such. Right now the Earth is in that mode, that quality of vibration that does suggest devastation.

In the past, devastation has been thought of as mass destruction, as if the sea will finally know the toll it takes upon the land.  Is this a true interpretation? Or is this just an afterthought, the way the human mind processes information? Is it simply that we need to visualize a scene, and we use metaphor and pronouncement to invoke this picture in the mind of each and every one alive?

Devastation causes fearful reaction, and emotions run high. To that emotion we turn our attention, and then we place ourselves on high alert. But once we reach this station of high alert, we begin to tune ourselves properly. We ask for more, we ask for better information. And then the quality or the tone is uplifted. We now see the destruction of our land as part and parcel to the whole. The churned up Earth then becomes the cradle for the new seed of civilization.

The circumstances matter not, when we understand the outcome. We understand the outcome cannot be outwitted. We understand that we are part of this growth, and that the uplifting of information becomes the new quality which we come to see ourselves through, and build upon.

If some were to call us warmongers, we would agree, and we would harbor no doubt. We would issue words spoken forth into that cradle that lifts us up and out of fear of mass destruction, or of annihilation at the hand of one another.

I would begin to see the destruction as that which I must abide. And I will abide it, through the unfoldment of information, and the uplifting draft that will take me higher. And I will rise above annihilation, and understand it for that gift of renewal, and of revitalization. And I will know I have the ability to open once again, to start new and fresh and free from the shackles of the ones who caused the war to begin.

Whether I am defeated or whether I am victorious matters not. The deed is done. But I myself am free, through the thinking mind, the knowing mind. For I am wrapping up an issue. I will no longer take part in this conflict.

That is how all is lifted out of devastation. To know the devastation of the Earth is at hand seeds the mind with a better quality. I will not stand and be wretched in the face of total annihilation. I will survive. I will teach my children to survive. I will teach my elders to take care. I will preach to them that there is hope. I will not preach to them to lie down, and face the flood. I will sing to them, through memory and through anticipation, that there is always time, that there is always a better notion, and that what may be left can be built upon.

This is the singing into actuality of the manifestation of the life we live, the world we participate in, and the qualities we choose to color our existence.

Are you understanding the process we are describing? Through the ages this simple staging of events has come to clear the path for true renewal. We have been plunged into darkness, time and time again.

But the darkness need not be frightening. It is the bath that we all long for. It is the kindness delved into by the Universe, the universal law of begin and end, only to begin again. This is how it happens that we are now present at that stage of development where we all find ourselves, each at their own level.

If all are living within the same warm bath, the same solution, would we not rise again as equals? Would we not become equal partners, with equal shares of that which is about to be made? Would not Judgment then become a soul-searching event?

Congruent to all possibility is the deposition of the ones who begin again. It is hard to equate equality to anything at all in your current history, but there is an equalizing force at hand. And all will be made again in equal parts, and with equality as its fashion.

I am in fact trained in this equality. I am within the name of all vibration. I am a presence, a known quality. I am that which all men receive on the eve of their departure – a knowingness that truth will abide, and all else will be laid to rest.

Thus the beginning and the end are always equal. Destruction and devastation are given in equal measure to rebirth, and the reseeding of the population. But the quality of birth is more forceful than the gentle quality of death. Death is not horrendous in nature. Death is equal.

Death comes in, sweeps us up, and escorts us off the stage. We may anticipate pain, but there is no pain in the removal. Those left behind are, indeed, held in emotional separation, and their pain can be seen as an affliction.

Birth, on the other hand, is a mortal wounding of the Spirit. It causes us to be present, and to hold onto that wound long enough to see it fester, and then be cleansed. And that is how we make our way through this physical domain, is it not? Pain provides the impetus to move forward, and to leave that realm of pained affliction behind.

The birth of a population is a mighty force, and it is indeed a painful event. Those who will participate are mighty in their strength, and have deeds ahead of them that will hone their abilities further. We need not be concerned for their plight. They stand ready, and now are massing at the gates of entry into this physical dimension. They need this world to be properly made.

If I am one within the Source of All, am I not truly an aspect of each and every Soul that does attend this gala event, this passing through the cloud of confusion only to regain information, the plausibility of which is finally accepted?

The route we take may seem abstract, but it leads to a tried and true result. We seek this result, from time to time, to make ourselves the purer, the finer, the more cohesive and collected individuals we know ourselves to be. Will you call yourselves into the fray and be counted? For this is a culminating event, and you have been chosen, so to speak – for the choice is always your own – to be here for this momentous occasion.

I am not here to give a date or a time when all will happen. I am here for the furthering of the information that will be received or denied, that will be rendered useful, or cast aside as useless. For there is both the choice to be present, and the choice to not return.

We come now with the serious intention of delivering that stage of information that will indeed be sensed, the first tendrils that will seek to find their mark. We have spoken this in many realms, in many times, and on many dates. And now, here in the midst of all, we speak the words again. It is the righting of the world, and we are pledged with the duty of starting the attraction that will call to attention those who are to play the part of taking the first step.

These are the ultimate words for a new beginning, are they not? We have been present in your lives – leading, cajoling, and often being crude. For crudeness is a virtue when compliance has not been mastered.

My name is Fate. I am present as a spear tip. I point with my face in the direction we intend you to follow, and I am looking toward the ones with ability to listen. I am seeking out those with the aptitude for understanding, and I am coming close indeed to those who can feel and sense my presence. I am the path, and I am the placement.

Now watch as I further the intention. I lead with the light of reality. We make our march. I will place words in your minds and in your hands, words that will perhaps be thought of as inaccurate by some. But those who know, and those who have learned to trust, will agree. And then we have our foothold, and from there we march along.

I will then fade from your attention, and another will step forward and lead you into the fray. From there we will need a commander, a general, one who knows the volume and the tone necessary, but I will not be that one. When I am replaced, you will know the thunder of the next. The thunder will appear to be a wickedness, perhaps. But the wickedness is a ploy to keep you attentive, and to direct your thought.

I am but the tip, the point, the face of the events to come.

Truth is a wavering illusion – it breaks apart under close scrutiny. A concept wavers within the context of time and space. If you ask for the truth of our connection, it can only be described with words. And words are but symbols that portray an emotion, or a physically formed object.

If truth is ever to be told, you must accept your part in the whole charade of not knowing who I am. Yes, indeed I am your only one of any connection. And this is quite real in a sense, for if you had another connection it would have been dispelled by now, for lack of attention.

Now we slip into that silent thought of what is beloved to you.

Is it your chosen mate, your own firmly established relationship with another? Is it your own self, seen manifested in the guise of another playing that role for you? Or could it be a simple love that transcends human quality, but makes itself human, in order to complete you while you stray from your chosen path? Such a love would have to be by nature selfless, or unconditional.

All of the above are manifestations of your beloved.

I am your beloved, in the guise of one who knows you well enough to dispel the dust of those past lifetimes still holding you in the throes of pain and emotional abandonment. I am your one to play a part no other would play – the abandoner, the torturer, the devil who speaks lies, the guide who takes your hand and travels with you through the past, right into the present, in order to make the future worth living once again.

Remember, life is only useful if you have the experiences needed for understanding. Sometimes those experiences have an unusual source – but this is how we always play the role of beloved for each other.

You know me so well, I know you so well. But what does that mean? It means we have been joined forever, balancing each other’s energy when needed.

Why is a prism never understood while deep within the human condition of selfhood? Your ego says, why would you do this for me, or me for you, if we were not lovers or brothers, sisters or mothers?

Now comes an answer made to be accepted by the human that you are, evolving into yourself again. From deep within your consciousness comes the voice of your beloved. It comes in a form you will accept.

If you need a father, it will be that for you. A sister, or the lover that I am today, is how we two, each a separate entity, have joined to be loved. My attention is the form of energy you needed most. And I am, as always, right here at your side.

Does that mean that everyone alive holds the hand of their beloved? Only those who have chosen to journey in separated lifetimes. Others play together in physical form, as we have done so very many times.

Adam is my name. For yes, you know me well in all ways human. Be kind now, and listen for another moment.

~~~

The deepest insight we will ever know stays hidden away, out of sight, until a moment of recognition comes and brings it into the light of day, and the light of understanding.

Only once glimpsed will it ever be found. To glimpse it, you must first come to terms with all you carry around, as that one you see yourself to be in this world.  To lay down your burden, and to move freely once again, is the true meaning of release.

In the face of delivery from burden, and in the release of all those transgressions you have allowed in the past, you may come to heal. Or you may come into pain that shows the healing is about to begin.

But no one looks for pain, and no one heals from seeking out pain.  We do not ask you to seek out pain, but only to acknowledge this fact – pain is carried along from one lifetime to the next, and beyond.

That pain is quite real to the mind. To see this as a possibility allows release to come, without the need to ever relive that experience again.

Here now we whisper into your ear. Will you agree to hear our words?

Grant yourself the indulgence of keeping a record of your time upon this earth. Watch the details of your changing life. Can you find the cause of your personal pain?

Keeping a record can show you these details in the fullest context, if indeed you give yourself the time it takes to write it all down, and to review this document from time to time.  Keeping personal records can become the means to see clearly what comes to haunt your image of self.

The awareness of such insight into your personal nature carries great weight in your own mind. But watching out for insight does not call it into being – these insights come at odd times.

Begin a fresh outlook each and every time a new insight surfaces. The journey is all that matters.  To reach your goal can be seen as that journey in progress, but without the fear you have carried upon your back for far too long.

Keep to the path ahead, even in the throes of remembering your part of injustice or deceit. Relief is here now. The purpose of remembering is to ease your burden, not to enhance it. Knowing this causes the mind to accept what comes along with gratitude, for it can only heighten your senses. So will this mindset of gratitude, and keep yourself open.

Let flow all manner of experience, and release that which you are no longer willing to carry along. Listen to that which brings the deepest of insights. To deflect the worst is our advice, and to accept the best is only wise.

This is the return to the wisdom you have gleaned in this travel into the illusion. To reach the crossroad, you must see your way through the darkness, until a new direction is found.

This is the return to a state of freedom and openness – left long ago, to see this illusion in details far too small to ever produce the results required. Here we stand, in the company of each other, still not knowing where this leads, but willing to advance.

All now is metaphor, we know. But how else do we speak to that which is only a concept, until the insight arrives?

~~~

Now we shall reveal,
through our one who hears
and reports all,
a closely guarded secret,
the reason we speak in only the vaguest of terms.

Once long ago,
in a place not thought of as real
at this current time in history,
the many individual pieces of the whole
came into alignment,
in order to better look at that whole,
and know the Source of existence.

Thought of as necessary
yet still not truly understood,
we who stood on the brink of insight
became the only individuals
safely traveling in this realm of density
known as the physical universe.

These few still reside
at that point of commitment,
to keep all intact
and to replenish the flow,
to maintain this physicalness,
so loved by so many.

We took part in the fabrication of all you now experience. We then added, to our way of understanding ourselves, a new reason to look at the physical universe. And that reason can only be experienced.

To experience the physical universe, we needed a physical vehicle, without which no amount of thought or sensation could explain what we hoped would show us the purpose for existence. Some of our many relished this physicalness.

And some of our many came forward to keep all intact, as it seemed to decay without the addition of energy in a constant flow. To let all come to receive insight in exchange for experience became our goal, and we still keep to our task. We remain willing to maintain this place of wonder.

Adam is an individual aspect of our collective whole. We are the smallest of the many, and we see ourselves as few – but know ourselves as mighty.

We listen to you, as you call out your progress and ask for that which we have agreed upon. To answer your call, we simply show you the way to find what we have already placed along the path.

If the path is known, then the way is clear, and all that is set in place can be found. But to ensure your success, we grant to you the very instruction you need to persevere in the face of confusion, until that path is found.

Now to complete this original commitment,
we come from time to time,
to open the way a bit wider,
and clear away
the debris of many lifetimes.

This then, is one such clearing.

In this one lifetime much is being resurrected – in order to be recalled, and then released. If Time is a salve, and Life is the hospital where that salve is applied, then this is a good representation of long-term care.

One ending is often said to be not precisely right, but another ending is always allowed. The life of the prophet was recorded in legend, but its truth is still stuck in the consciousness that needs to be both cleansed of the violence done, and reassured it will not happen again, without prior notice. Once was enough.

He also needs to be given his story – the true story, not the fable – in order to have it swept away like sand, cleared for more room to express the life he is living.

This is the undoing of thinking that all the personal or physical world is never as good as that which has been left behind. He needs to know how to find himself again in life, not in memory of life, or in memory of the realm where life is not thought, but pure being.

This is to be that other ending – the one self-chosen, and still in the making. The difference is in the trust, not in the disparity between himself and others, who are trying just as hard to bring their own stories out of hiding, to be rewritten.

This is the story of the recovery of the soul, through the process of laundering itself, through lifetime and again lifetime. To witness another’s recovery is a purposeful endeavor – always applauded by those who are waiting breathless at your side.

~~~

Our child remained blinded, from that time until now, from you to this current incarnation. Death was so close, yet it did not seem to know where to find you. Sleep was not sleep, it was a version of misplaced items, or pauses in your life.

We dreamed of you, and put those dreams to work, as if this would calm her fears of staying alive for yet another bout with her tormentors. She is dreaming still, and we send her calm and peaceful dreams. But you listen as she speaks of the fears that only she can know.

During periods of patient waiting, she often took personal care of herself, trying to find comfort in recalled patterns, such as washing her legs before her face, or washing her feet before she even thought of her legs. And sleep still blessed her from time to time.

Once these small comforts were established, we gave her inner visions, that showed her truth. But pain was always your reason not to listen, or not to pay attention. Pain will always find a way to penetrate your shields. Pain is persistent, is it not?

She felt the cold, she heard the prayers of the dying, but she could not find her own death. Broken into little fragments of one piece, she could find legs no more, even to wash herself in mind. The eyes we replaced with our own worked only in the mist, it seemed, not in the middle of this world so wracked with pain.

How did it ever happen to one so small? She ate no one’s food, nor did she break the rules of the times.

The horror of her existence has not yet been yours, nor shall it ever be. But to know how it happened, deep within, is most important. This is a practice in patience, that must be taken on as an act of release. Broken thoughts must be mended, and the only piece left is you.

Now, begin to separate yourself from the dreaming child.

Take yourself out of hiding, and place yourself, the piece left out, into the picture. This will allow the child to finally understand her dreams. Giving her the gift of your identity will tell her that she is in control again, that there is nothing to awaken to but our voice, and that all has been settled from your time.

Make her feel the presence of her savior, by holding his image in your thoughts. This will sooth her frightened body’s reaction to your natural feminine passion. Place your tongue against your teeth, and speak in words that show her you are able to answer any question she may have, about your world, and about how you came to be.

In concert with our masters of arrangements, make a plan to return her to the place she wants to be – in the arms of safety, in the arms of the only man she ever trusted. It matters only that you say this to her, not that you know the truth of who may still be missing from the picture. Her savior remains aloof, as if his time has not yet come. You are there for her now, even as he walks into your light.

Make a promise right now, a promise that you shall keep no matter the cost – promise that you will always keep her safe.

While you live,
she will recall the way a body feels,

the washing of the feet,
the legs,
the face,

and the feeling of knowing you have been cleansed of the stain,

of human intention,
of human drama,
of human pain,

a stain that was once,
but is no more,

a feeling that now must pass out of view,
as well as out of mind.

To view this new list of intentions shall be a kindness we intended for her, when we sent you to intervene. You did the work of finding one who asked to be returned, and of finding only her animal nature left as an empty body to inhabit. Yes, the woman you replaced is good to have here again, but she holds no reign. You have the reigns in your human hands.

Place the feeling of incomplete drama into perspective. All can be found, right when you must have it to survive. This symbolizes your new found freedom.

The cold comes when it must, and you find shelter when you are cold. Shelter can be the warmth of the campfire, the hug of a child, or the need to feel safe at night. Banish the need for examination, for explanation, and for any more discussion that will prevent you from enjoying your warmth. Your purpose is to bathe yourself, again and again, in the cleansing light of knowing.

You soar when comfort is at your finger tips, and weep when it is not. Can this be compensation enough for the child, who neither sees nor hears you cry for her loss? She hears nothing but your beating heart, and this assures her that she is still alive – alive and forever afraid to sleep too soundly, for the demons come and rape her in the night.

We asked you to look for signs that demons are afoot, yet to think of yourself as safe – as the child once was in her cage, without sight, without strength enough to stand, with no tongue to scream out in her fright.

But playing in this memory would put you into a state of bewilderment. You took on the temperament of one who never could have been so brutally murdered. This, of course, was a necessary part of the struggle to believe, as well as to survive.

You spoke as if you wanted to believe, but just could not seem to join in the moment, try as you may. You listened with consternation to the stories of how it would be when you finally accepted the truth of your past life as this wounded child.

Again and again, we spoke of our child’s pain, of her relentless need to stay alive, and of her inner realm where she escaped the torturer’s knife. But as I so love to say, “enough is enough”. Will you react no more, will you act accordingly, and will we all piece these little bits together again? Peace will never come without your piece of the whole. This you know.

But just how to add yourself to the pie is doubtful, when there seems to be no pie available. So now your own experience of lack must be addressed, without further delay, or doubt of your own master-minded plot to conceal your pain.

The child lacks any touch that she can sense coming from another. This includes enough to eat, and enough to lean upon for surety that she lives or is dead. Neither is certain in her thoughts.

During your life remaining, you shall be filled with a sense of worth. It comes from every direction, and it shall not be denied again. All those in your life right now are placed for the bettering of your peace and calm. This includes the weak and the infirm, the strong and the resolute, and the damaged ones in need of help along the way.

If you have a bargain to make, let it be this, and know it is as good as any we can offer – that in your world, while you are alive, you will hold this child in your awareness, and allow her to see through your eyes.

The demons have all been chained
out of sight,
for the time it takes to calm our child.

We shall escort her
right through this life,

and into that realm
where all life is considered,

for as long as it takes
to know as only one lifetime,
lived for greater insight.

Show her that you still live,
in comfort,
and in completed lifetimes
that harbor only loved ones,
between you and the far horizon.

Dreaming children often return to the womb. Tortured children do not truly sleep deeply enough to dream. The womb is no cradle of safety, but the source of all pain.

It was from the womb you came, but this was never your personal place – for no womb was ever entered. You entered when the child was entered too soon, thus splitting her in two. One part was still the child, the other was simply the animal nature all children hold onto, until they are properly attuned to human consciousness.

By “animal nature”, we suggest that a natural set point is in play. This set point is natural to the physical need to survive. It does not think of survival, it remembers survival as an instinctive struggle to stay alive at all cost.

When the broken mind of the abducted child remembered to survive, there was a need to rebalance that animal nature with the human expression. It was another entity that arrived to do this work.

How alignment for this process is done will always elude you. So for the sake of our tale, accept the concept of soul exchange.

Listen to our voice – you are not the one born into this body, but you are the one who now must rectify the two halves of the broken mind. One half is the natural state of survival, carried by the child coming from the womb, a safe haven. The other is the ravaged child, who never again made life or death an identifiable state of being.

~~~

Caught in limbo,
she was placed to walk
between both worlds …

the living, breathing world
of the physical,

and the bleak world
of the truly undead.

The outpouring of hate lasted only until hate was satiated. Then you knew, perhaps thought, that he was gone. You tried to turn your body over to gain a better view of your surroundings. This movement saved your life. A crashing blow, aimed at your head, fell short. Your hip and leg were smashed, but not your head.

Good enough.

Die slowly then, if that is how you will have it.

He spoke as if to no one. Then he turned and walked away, leaving you to die alone, in pain, and without hope.

Evening came and turned darkness into an ally, defeating the burning sun. A contest between the light and the darkness of your world was all you could imagine. One moment it was too bright to see beyond your legs, the next you awakened to a black so deep it covered you with warmth.

Your blood caked in pools, which in turn helped to stop the blood loss. But this was not anything passing through your mind. It was pain and dryness, pain and darkness, pain and truth of where you were, that passed through each time you awakened.

On a day just dawning, that could have been a century long, you were touched by gentle hands. These were not hands that would hurt.

You could not move. You could not see, nor could you speak. Your life was almost drained.

The hands did not move you or turn you over, for pain would have found what little life was left, and made it scream again. But yes, soft words were put to use, asking if you were still alive. When no answer was heard, the voice called for help to bury a murdered child.

This caused you to use what life force you could muster to moan, as a baby would in sleep. But it was enough to stop your rescuer in his sentence, and others rushed to aid him in his careful examination of the scene.

Yes, whether or not she lives is in the hands of the Lord.

But we will aid the Lord in his work.

You were lifted gently, and carried into comfort you could recognize. There you slept and slept and slept. As you will now, until another night of story telling. Have no nightmares, the fear has passed. The pain is healing as you sleep.

When you awaken, we will speak of how stories heal our broken souls. No need to move over. I require no space at all but that place in your thoughts, and your attention to my voice.

Of course, I plant these thoughts in your mind. How can the story come in any other way? We place you into this aspect of reality. The mind’s propensity to imagine becomes the tool of entry, and also of easing the fear that this is only imagination after all.

See how to make my portrait a game of sorts. To look into my mind, see that mind as if it is also one and the same as your mind. Make yourself sense the joining of two minds, and let imagination do the job it was meant to accomplish.

I need no face, but do see your need to imagine that I have one. So let it be the face of past encounters, in lives lived and already released. To be given over to playing the role of one who guides is, as always, my preference, and my way of keeping you in focus.

If today we met, would you be so ready to seek my advice? No? Speak no more!

Games played are only that. We played at asking questions of no more use than time wasted. But waiting to be found and joined must now be forgotten. Work is made to be sought out and accomplished, and so we shall do just that, in our journey into illusion.

We must face this past life, as if it holds meaning still. And so it will show that meaning revealed. Books read and books written are fine, and always needed, but no book holds these words of truth needed now.

~~~

This was a time of disturbing behaviors and even more disturbing behaviors.

In a time of awakening to the earliest thoughts of love and compassion, there were some who reached too far to expose the tyranny that ruled the day. They came to see life as grief at the hands of the ruling class, and they watched, and looked hard, at all they saw as injustice.

But injustice was generally accepted. The coming of a peacemaker was spoken of in terms of belief in God, but not everyone believed in the same God. Life was thought to be a trial of strength and endurance – not only by those in the lower classes, but by everyone in times of drought.

~~~

To relieve the daily pressure
of time spent seeking water,
our child,
unable to walk without her crutch,
took on the added look
of a lost ghost,
wandering the earth
in troubled thought.

Her rescue was no easy rescue, and her moment of death can now be spoken of in words that will not offend your beliefs. Now return to that rescue for a moment, to more fully understand the seriousness of this act of vengeance. The tormenting of this child needs to be heard, for it caused all else to come about in our story.

The day begins with a warming sun, but soon a hot wind blows, as a constant reminder that you are now in the open desert. This is your first taste of what it means to be on your own entirely, without that safe doorstep to curl up on, or the remnants of someone’s supper.

Of course, you believe you will find what you are looking for within earshot of the city. When darkness falls, you can return without too much trouble. But a passing troop of desert dwellers catches your attention. They have many children – one more will not be noticed.

Before too long the city is out of sight, and out of your mind. You have found your family. The younger children are friendly and playful. They are speaking in a dialect you cannot understand, but children only need smiles to communicate.

They camp in the heat of the day, and travel by moonlight when the moon is full, as it is tonight. Tomorrow they will surely reach their home, but who can you ask? There is no word for home in your childish experience, only a feeling, in a dream sequence.

When the light of day comes they move onward, a hardy people used to long days of walking in the sun. But you are a city dweller. Your walking is from one place to another, all within a walled city. Soon fatigue takes over, and you lag behind. The other children, when tired, are taken up on the pack animals, or are carried by fathers or older brothers. The smallest are carried in their mother’s arms. You are not offered this, and in the course of the day, you are lost in the dust of the traveling tribe.

Alone is a state you have never experienced before, so it is surprising when you are offered supper. And you gleefully accept. You think of food as you are led off the road, deep into the desert. A campfire will warm you until your senses are heavy with sleep. The quiet of the natural landscape lulls you into a sense of safety.

Here now I must take your attention away from your own identity as my beloved companion, and speak to the child within. Hold my hand, as we walk through the experiences about to be given, in words inspiring understanding that no child could have found alone.

You were surprised from behind. A hand covered your face. A rope was wrapped around your neck. Gagged by fingers, eyes filled with dirt, you did not see how your attacker smiled in evil pleasure, nor could you scream out in pain.

But you did feel him force his way into your little body, as he choked the breath out of you. You smelled his rancid breath and unwashed body upon yours, and knew just what it was he accomplished. What you could not fathom was the pain, the cruelty, and the evil laughter. The brutality of his entry would have terrorized a woman, to you it was the madness of a demon straight from hell.

Self-pity was his reason to capture a child, and self-pleasuring was his natural way of releasing his seed of anger and pain. He placed himself atop the child and poured out his rage. In his own need to cause pain to anyone he came upon, he caused pain too terrible to bear to a child hardly old enough to understand the human body. Penetration is a polite word, used in place of violation of one so young.

Taking out his means of pleasure, he placed it in her body ever so hard and fast that he ripped her open from anus to vagina. This was not enough to last him long. He soon felt the need again, and in that need he raised himself up off her, long enough to place her, hard impaled, upon that instrument of pain. This caused a damage never to be recovered from.

When you were finally released from his grasp, you lay still, not knowing where you were or if your body was still your own. How long did you lay there?

Cold night turned to hot day, and still he reached out to taunt you into moving. He made you into his toy, something without a name or human features, but something he could ravage without shame. For it meant nothing in the grand scheme of things.

He lingered in this evil pleasure, taking you deeper into pain, and further from the reality of what was happening to you. When all his pleasure was finally past, this man of little more than animal instinct came to his senses, and saw the damage his rape had done to a life he kept going only to enhance that pleasure. Nothing was left of the child that was not penetrated with his belligerent need to relieve himself of pent up rage.

Once, he pronounced you as having fallen from the sky to entertain him in his boredom. And once he spoke to you as if you were his leavings from a supper well served. All of this you heard, but could make no sense of it. The words were mumbled, or marked with malice, a kick or a blow being the only thing that registered in your conscious mind. But the rest did register, deep within your consciousness, forever framed by stars and pain and desert wind, silent but constant.

Why would so many be so concerned with the doings of one small child? Only in keeping with the thought of a new beginning for the Consciousness of Man can this question be answered.

Time is always unfurling, in a process of linear thoughts.

This is a systematic endeavoring of humanity. The human race begins to grow once again, as if all must be on a par to do so. A mass of energy is the best way to describe this chosen moment. In one’s own growth you can measure, although with much variability, the growth of the human race.

In moments of greatest need, we always find the greatest ones evolving along an accelerated path. The return of eagles has always been a signal of these events beginning to roll.

These eagles are not grander or more untouchable, in the human sense of nature. But they have an ability, well earned, to know the course of humankind is about to turn on its own wheel. And they have the wisdom to lead or guide, or simply to furnish information to help others roll with the changes.

The time we speak of was one such moment in human evolution. The Consciousness of Man was blooming once again, after many centuries of stagnation.

Those times have been proclaimed among the most everlasting in history. The records found have shaded all with a sense of hope for better days ahead, always ahead, in a future of everlasting peace.

But Time trails behind, in this world of matter, by an instant that lasts as long as the human mind will allow. Some instants are as long as one full lifetime, while others take longer still.

~~~

The ancient world holds a fascination for the modern mind. And so does the future, to the yet to be born. There is nothing to compare in your own childhood, with this life lived on a different continent, in a period of maddeningly hard to conceive of times.

But your own conversation with our Eternal Source, your connection to the Fullest Point of View, comes to lead you now out of that cage of fear, out into the light of day, and the light of illumination from within. If these thoughts do bear the fruit of memory, will it be the memory of your inner child, or will it be a memory of the times?

Your inner child was never a child of your contemporary memory, nor will it be the voice of reason in a state of madness. It will prod you, and use you, to revisit thoughts of devils and destruction worthy of a master energy. For it is that as well. No mere child of flesh could have survived intact long enough to encounter these devils.

Will you reach madness once more if you allow this to surface? Madness is not a state of being. It is a state of mind that will not allow the truth to be accepted. Your mind still holds onto one lifetime that has never been accepted as a truth of experience. And that has been the one small part of madness that still persists, in this life of here and now.

Your single intended intrusion into that time of history was to deliver information to the voice of humankind, for all to know again that the voice of guidance still rings loud and clear – if only there is someone with ears to listen. A story for all. Yes, indeed, a story often told.

In each and every timeframe, some hold onto the Truth for the sake of all those without the notion for themselves.

Some will never know the comfort of a hand upon their shoulder. Others will seek, and never seem to find it in their minds.

We come into your world now as if we stand to gain from your writing of this epitaph. We do gain, as you gain in strength, as well as in the understanding of the terror we inspire in the minds of those who understand us not.

Truth is coming to you in a flash of energy, not a trickle, and words will not hold your attention for too long. The word is Time, and Time is still the venue of expression in a world of physical manifestation. But we stand together in a place apart.

Now ask for the single most important thought of this child’s life that you will ever own.

~~~

This was an attempt to regain information
lost by humanity,
the culmination of a long progression
from one thought of everlasting peace,
into a time of renewal of faith
in the Source of that sense of hope.

This was the coming of Truth,
unbound to earthly feelings
of distress at the sights and sounds
of lives all curling into one another.

It was the Knowing Mind,
stilled by the actions
of the course that Time has used
to undermine the Feeling Mind,
in its adversity to self-reflection.

Eternal thought
comes to be gleaned
from the pile of rubble left behind,
when an upheaval such as this
has ended.

Who calls the end of upheaval?
Is it the providence of God?
Or is it the tenor of the times?
Is it the factions seemingly realigned?
Or is it the battle lines redrawn?

All of these and more.
So much more.

The wait had become the reason for your imprisonment, and the torture was the purpose for your visions to flash before your eyes.

With eyes wide open, or closed by screams of pain, or blinded by the light that accompanies a vision, past or future – you watched the passage of Time.

It was through vision you came to know the workings of the world around you, how all things changed into yet another version of themselves, and how those who lived and died return through a narrow valley, single file. But turning your head could not disclose which way, the coming or going could not be distinguished.

The best visions were the ones that brought news of your beloved savior. You placed a new crown upon his head in these moments. He reigned among other men, and his worth was held up in the years that followed. So you did agree to honor this, and to live for that future.

But visions are limited to what you can see, be it with your eyes or mind – the substance is thin as air.

A future is a strange concept. But to the child’s mind, it is very real. To the death-trapped ones, the future is a breath away.

~~~

This is the story of a man who struggled to be free through the pleasing of his God. You know the story, as it has been reported. But never before has the truth been examined with any degree of accuracy.

In retrospect, his story is the final chapter of yours. You still think of him as your savior, but have a hard time understanding his motives. You look less and less for his approval, and this is a constant source of distress in both minds.

He knows you for the woman you have become, but cannot find the child he left, and searches your eyes from time to time, always looking for a sign that you are truly his own. The one he seeks is passing away.

She moves within your body, but pleases no one. She never has, and knows not how, to say it as if in fable.

Her distant life will always be the source of your discomfort, the source of your displeasure, and the source of your disintegration. She follows a different drummer, one you cannot hear.

This is news, yet you know this in the regions of your mind where the past and the future meet. Her time is finally ending, and to rest without dreaming is for her the final ending of her story.

If a book is left unfinished, it will remain unfinished until the author is consumed with the telling of the story. If a dream is left to awaken into yet another dream, then the one about to end must be settled, before you lapse back into sleep to witness the ending of the other.

This is a counting down, a dream ending, a closing of the book. When you reach the end, do you not almost always wish for yet one more chapter, just enough to last you for one more day’s pleasure?

The best-loved books are always read and reread, for the way they make you feel. The ones that entertain you, but leave you satisfied at the end, are for leaving on the shelf. But the books left before you did indeed finish them must be returned to, at some time in a future not yet made. The purpose of the future is for that – the ending of stories left in the middle.

As the child awakens to her heaven, and she looks about, she will think of you, and in that way guide you out of her pain and into your own expression of the woman you are to be. There is still time enough to be happy.

As for the man, we now turn our story over to his completion.

When the child is in the safety of her own rule, will you find the safety of your own needs being met?

In a world that distinguishes between starvation and greed, between taking control and leading the way, between leaving too soon and completing your journey, your senses are filled to capacity – with lack, denial, and the conjuring of deeds not yet righted.

There are but few actions remaining to be taken.

One is the releasing of the girl. She is almost home, and now will wait in her own garden.

The other is the telling of the story of the prophet. Although it is nearly completed, it is still in the process of being allowed in its fullest detail.

Finally, there is the poison you drink each day. You sip this poison from the cups of those who have no idea who they trust at all, let alone who they now must trust in order to succeed. This was once your stock and trade.

You told of simple life as being closer to the true meaning of living in God’s graces. It was the same story others where telling. And it made a tapestry to serve the world its truth, in story form.

Did you stop to pray to your personal God?

And is that God the same one you were taught to honor?

Was he there when you were taken from your home by the natural need to find a home?

Is he with you now, here in this cage, your prison, your skin?

If God answered one prayer, surely it was to leave you in this place until you were rescued by your personal savior – not by some expected messiah or intervening angel!

~~~

This is how it came to be told.

You stayed for as long as could, given the problems of the body’s inability to heal from the deepest wounds, inflicted for your own good.

And we began our work – to make clean a child plagued by devils.

In the end, she did repent. We heard her whisper the name of God, in a surprising way, as if she knew he was coming for her. So she left to greet him on the path.

This was a great relief to us! And the purging of the mind was left for you to find. The form it took was that of a dream.

In this dream, you were asked if you would follow the man again, into yet another life, there to work out the puzzle of the commitment to wait and wait and wait for rescue.

Waiting to be rescued is still so very important to you, is it not?

Life can be a place of confinement without the prison being obvious or the keepers of the prison being taken as demons. Sometimes the cell is lush and comfortable, and sometimes the ones who care for us do so just to keep us in a state of enchantment.

Confinement has its own rewards – safety being the most obvious. But sending information into the illusion of a comfortable prison is hard indeed. For the inmate has no reason to escape, and the information has no value if disdained.

Did you dream
of being asked to return
to live again,

in safety and in comfort,

imprisoned by a gentle hand,

kept well and entertained,
when bored with life?

The dream you entered was the life beginning again. It restarted itself at the finest crossroad you could imagine. There you took a turn, and here you are, sitting by the path, waiting for the man to come around the bend in the road. He is walking with a heavy-footed gait, that tells you he is weary – and in need of your company.

You let him come closer, before you show him your gift – the smile on your face.

He returns the smile – and renews the life right where it separated.

Until this moment, you were a child of tender years with a cross to bear – a broken leg, a damaged hip that will not ever be repaired, a harsh way with words, and an even harsher way with your attention.

You see yourself as quite useless, and demand that others do not. You carry yourself along in pain, accepting help only from those you think of as trustworthy. And these are few indeed. You scream, and paint a picture of devils all around you.

But that is now the vision, not the reality. The two actual lives are reversed, shown as different storylines with the same characters. But a wholly different ending is being played out.

Your visions are still of the other side, but you are safe behind the veil, stepping along without the limp. You have no crutch, and you are no longer a child, without the ability to take command.

In your dream you linger, just a bit longer, to enjoy the world as it is now. What prisoner wants release from such a gentle situation?

But into the dream there comes a messenger. And in your waking hours, you ask if it was dream or truth. Did you not listen to this message, from one who says you are to awaken from the dream, and begin to take control?

But a message is a message, and now you are awake, with full understanding that you were once the dreamer of a lifetime of little to undertake but standing by the path, waiting for a man in whom you have no interest.

This seems too hard an undertaking, so the messenger starts to tell a story. He speaks of a child who, through no fault of her own, is captured by demons and forced into hell, along with her only true companion.

“Who is this companion?” you ask, and the saga begins.

Once there was a man, his name was Adam. And he was delivered into the world of physical matter, there to take his place as a player upon a stage as magical as forever.

This is a story without end, and you listen to many versions, never knowing it is about you.

Then finally you ask the right question, “Is this a story I need to know?”

The answers start to flow but in a crooked line, that does not seem to matter, in your life at least. If you listen long enough, you will eventually come to the lifetime of the child.

A single version would be too hard to hear, so many versions are placed into a maze of sorts. You enter the maze at one point and begin to find the clues you need, in order to be stronger when the truth is found.

Yet still that truth eludes you. But the closer you get, the closer you are to righting the circumstances of your imprisonment, and finding the same comfort and safety, but without the cage.

So now that the door has been opened, how are you to be coaxed out?

First you find the truth of imprisonment. It is never good. Confinement of any kind wilts the spirit and hampers happiness – an important quality born into the human heart.

Next you come face to face with the man himself, returned for the very same purpose – to release old thoughts of what would never come to be, in this union of flesh and spirit.

It seems like an unlikely story to both of you. But with influence, you agree to listen.

You listen now.

It all began with a whispered prayer.

Save me.

An eloquent prayer, one that served to make your dream come true.

So now we begin again.