the mother of all fears

The Mother of all Fears … is that the world might actually make sense.

Tragedy&Comedy always does, but mostly in secret.

The invisible world of spirit is ever-present. Yet, for all that still invisible. For each, there is an inner world of far greater dimensions, for soul&spirit are infinite in time and space. A physical body carries its rider for a life-time, and then when the reigning dust dissolves in rust, the horseless ones stand alone, in good company, echos of lifetimes upon lifetimes … constant reincarnation in our world’s crashing seas of karma rendered justly.

With feelings of terror and pain = giant floating indigestible masses, that must be ridden out of sight. We all hold back, … until we explode and fire hundreds of bullets into a crowd in Las Vegas … still, such a lost soul is also loved, as are we all.

The separation and aloneness of self, a weight without wings. A gravitas of who am I, where am I, why am I, … questions made from iron anchored in granite. The spirit-self, a sword to pull from stone.

To accept that reality of spirit everywhere means Trump&Company have been welcomed by heaven&earth, with the same trials to carry as everyone else. Name a horror that exists, and acknowledge either that the Divine Mystery knows what It is doing, or They is/are completely mad.

In which case then, Logic Announces in Triumph: “If Mad the Gods may be, then from Their Rules, I may Flee.” At which vanity the stars giggle, like teenage girls on a sleepover, taking puffs of some fine strains of the Ganja Goddess.

From what Fae Spirit do you think “intoxication&celebration” came to be. “I am the Lord of the Dance” said He.

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