...dust to dust, alas the particles clog the main stream!
The spirit moves underneath the great mass of things, upholds the head up high. All calamity breaks down, while fairies in the wild hide their intimate beauty.
Would a wild boar live amongst the man of today? Is today's anomalous "man" a man, like the boar is a wild boar: a natural watching creature, seeing in the woods, where his awareness is God's in the deep dark savage wilderness?
The spirit heralds death to plastic being. The wondrous stupidity that the fake gods pretended to make, is yet as if having never been! ...dust to dust!
Even the wind lives, breathes in the nostrils of things, inaugurating Paradise's presence.
My soul is the Spirit. I watch calmly, the sword in hand. My death has given me my Eternity.
I am happy, not to be a spectre with the world's attire. Happy to see that my dust absorbs the wind, my spirit reanimating with the Lord's benediction my RIGHT TO THE RESURRECTION!
My dead body in ashes coagulated in another Sacred Sphere. An angel given to the Eighth Climat. God is Great.
