A boundless Nature is the right place for the human heart. Inside the heart of everyone living on the Earth is just a kid who loves to live in the Heaven of their birth. To such a child, I believe, the very grass beneath our very feet is alive with the invincible total everlasting integration of every force, energy, element and emotion in existence forever. And so, I feel, are we alive with the Fullness of Life for all forever forever passing by.
Sunday, 17 December 2017
Axiom 1098 - The Churches of Outer Space and Heaven
Honest question. What about the laser reflectors supposedly placed in 1971 by Apollo 15. These reflector arrays can be used by many institutions around the world, probably even by well equipped amateurs. If not by Apollo, how were these placed? Unmanned rovers?
The lasers can reflect off the surface of the moon probably. The coordinates for these "mirrors" could easily be controlled by Military Intelligence, which is pretty much ALL the Military has done for tens of thousands of years: control intelligence. That is what Religions are for. Religions like all outer space propaganda, a Civilian Militarized Institutionalized living and thinking Animal Mythology that denudes the physical and celestial "SEX," along with the Voice and Story of One's Heritage and so one's whole liberty, time, labour and language, one's very womb. Full Spectrum Dominance that says, "Freedom is a set of beliefs," so that the Military-grade Propaganda and all of its wholly isomorphic simulacra of deadly instruments and transformations of torture the veritable gold standard currency of all "liberty" that civilization will or, like Yahweh, can ever supply you at the small cost of your own Mind, Wild and Time and that of your Children, this warfare against all organs of transporting one's Heritage through All Time and Nature gets so deep that nobody can speak the truth anymore, a functional loss that can, alone, qualify you for Any job in the Military, the Job or God of War.
The purest religion is the religion closest to our Nature.
Nature is the whole Religion of the World, the first
Established Church our Flesh and Blood of Mother Man and Child
Fortune favoured with the Belly of the Universe
To Feast upon the Bark of Years so Immemorial and Wild
Hunts upon the Autumn Frost the Knowledge of our Flesh
A soma and a psyche that grew quite a bit itself
And, even separated from its Child, even Death
Could hold no sway over the seasons growing all our Wealth
Sustained by every transformation of our Flesh and Blood
Celestial Biology the Book from Whence we hail
Like a Child from the Womb of all the roots of Love
As must command the mystery that feeds its Rivendale
The years that even fade into the coldest virgin night but we
Who are the children of Ourselves if They to Whom we bend
A knee without a Thought for aught the richness of its free
Articulation of its roots, its music and its wicked scent
Upon the mewling of the Dawn of Childhood and This
Greater Winter wrapped with such a robe first touched our fingertips.
Our tale would but just Begin and find thee where thou wept
Upon the altar of thy Mothers and thy Fathers dear
And dearer, still, for being lost like voices to their depths
Swept up by wars and poorest stories blunted hunger, happiness and fear
That Orphan and that wand'ring Fool, that Priestess and that King
Whose mind, alone, would glitter with our Stories in the Stars
Or Harps of Angels drew from deepest Winter greatest Spring
A People Thought with all that God or Man or Mother crossed their hearts
And tasted of the river of that Medicine that Bear
Who slipped so easily a crown upon thy Head from First
In the Beginning spoken by Thy Mother's Belly There
To all thy flesh and blood, thy Spirit longed to breathe the Words
Of such a Fire as belongs among the Stars that look
Upon the Prodigy of Man's First Labour and Again
Over the Man and Woman like a Orphan o'er a Book
Writ in the blood the purest nature of the human Brain
As knit as our own infant years as bound us up in Thee
Who, even from Thy first conception, found that language torn
And answerable to the people under whom one kneeled
To turn the nature of one's mind into so perfect form
As ate from the most sacred Tree and bade that bitter quell
The voices generations of the passing of our heritage as well.
So don't be scared of Death or even of that Sorrow bright
As cuts the deepest sky with distance that would close the years
Upon the far horizon of an Earth so pure a Sight
As meets us from so long ago the Mother of our love and of our fears.