There is no such thing as harboring secrets the voices whisper in the twilight...
Hidden away in darkness the light remains lite, to the ones who know.
Hooded figures gather in alley ways in major city streets awaiting taste of the underground...
Rituals performed through dance under the optical nature aware of eternal vibrations.
Riding the bassline until the dawn of rising sun eclipsed by the mountains of Mara...
The shaman travels far to bring fourth news of the unseen to eyes without wonder.
Born of a sealed body skilled in the historical arts of Mystery...
Birthed in the land of blind men living amongst visionaries, yet clutching onto deception programming by so called controlers.
Has one yet been beyond worlds of raptures, smoke, & mirrors...awakening to co exsistence with nature.
And she honors thee one of the creators...
And the outer skies shall offer thee the vast libraries of transparency gifts of a clear mind.
Comes foward the self which is above the shadow, merging swallowed by the serpants tongue...
Escaping the vortex of humanity.
LKCP2KXIII
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