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| This is how all Aryans leave this World, and without regret! |
Never anything else! Not ever was I from a waisted land of debt owners!
My life is the grass that grows, and with the wind bends even when there's no one there; not even if good old Bertrand Russell could be expected to say otherwise!
I own each star, yet each time I'm someone else. I am one with my Dad, but all the same, I'm my own Father to myself! Oh God, how awful to carry one's own cross and heart breaking burden; yet I'd never been someone else. I'd never wish it.
Good looking or not. But all Aryans are beautiful. They are as the Angels, but sometimes come from Saxony. The gods or Neteru are a wondrous living "THING" in my breast.
I see as if it were with their eyes, but they are mine: what is there inside, belongs to the same great grain. For the gods and me logic doesn't stand and can't withstand the "DRAFT' pushing over into nothingness the brittle severed brain now become but devastating worms.
My brothers are "the Christ", and at the same moment just what they've always been:
The dome the sky the earth and what's between ,each a great spirit wandering in the Great Abyss. And how terrible!
A Mind Star for eternity, yes!
