FireFly

 

She was just a dot until she was not.

Helcha and Patchy were exuberant at the news of their Easter surprise, they were going to be parents. It was 1940, she would arrive in the fall just in time for her first Christmas. Helchas twin sister Stacy knew before Patchy, maybe even before her sister. Back then being a twin was dangerous business where they had come from, medical and psychological experiments galore were had on twins. It seemed people had gone mad thinking they were gods that could commit atrocities never been seen before all over the world, not just one country. They were safe though, in a little town in Massachusetts.  

It was a time before the medical doctors had the use of ultra (crystals from the earth) sound to see inside the womb of the mother and take a gander at the child or popped a hole (I wonder what damage that can do when dealing with a complex system that not many will even consider) in the amniotic fluid to do 'tests' to see how the child was developing. 

The arrival of their first born was marred by a complication they didn't foresee, the little girl with tufts of hair the colour of fire upon her crown had been born with webbed fingers on one hand, it was September 20, 1940. 

For six years the little girl with tufts of hair the colour of fire upon her crown, was in and out of hospitals as they tried to correct the problem of this, God's child, that had been born deformed. 

(edit 4:30, because I forgot something very important to the story) Her mother and father worried *but had faith and when they walked into their place to call forth all the help the universe could gather to save their future, they dipped their human fingers and crossed the holy waters to brace the mind for the other side as they knelt under the shadow of the cross*, and prayed in and out of Church, words over their Rosaries everyday as they were able to be blessed again with another child, a boy, all the while they ferried their precious daughter to and fro and in and out of surgeries. One digit from her foot they patched her hand together so it would be a useful human hand that others would look at with disgust her entire life because it would never look like it was supposed too. 

The little girl with tufts of hair the colour of fire upon her crown with wone hand tied behind her back, grew up and went to medical school and became a nurse, a head honcho at a local hospital and she didn't know she was 'handicapped' until someone told her some time in the 1980's. 

The little girl with tufts of hair the colour of fire upon her crown with wone hand tied behind her back, grew up and fell in love and on her wedding day the biggest polka band on the bed of a truck greeted her at the door and brought her to the Catholic Church where she would tie the knot. 

The little girl with tufts of hair the colour of fire upon her crown, that was born with wone hand tied behind her back, gave birth in the late 1960's to a little girl, Dawn Marie, she's my cousin, on my fathers side, she and her children care for their aging mother, my Aunt Dorothy, her name means, "Gift of God".  

Now a days the doctors and psychologists of the breeding machine would have told you to just throw that baby out with the bath water because it wasn't up to par. "Abort! Abort! Abort!", they would yell, because they know they don't have the strength it takes to over come the hurdles God or we put in our way and sometimes we are just born this way. 

One day I will tell you a story

and it will make some minds want to explode. 

After my grandfather Patchy passed into the other realm, my father and mother were able to purchase a small home for Helcha where she could walk to her local church and have her food blessed on Easter with her grandchild, or children, in total a set of 5, and one that would spread the Word over the globe and her great, great, grandchildren that she would never know would be speak her native tongue Latin, although they did not all look like her, they would be one happy family. 

I was able to see that humble little home, it's now painted a beautiful soft orange hue you would find in a sunset. I like when people take care of that which is old, until it's time is up.

The Eagle has landed.

Faith, I know Her.

 

Meat of the animal must never be cooked in the mother’s milk. It bothers the mind. It does actually matter what we feed our Self. 

The mind (the root/cone) understands how the system works, and it is exuberantly more complex than we imagined, even if the human does not.

The mind knows something is wrong and tries to wake the body/consciousness. You have to train the mind properly, this is possible under a canopy of Gods rules, but every one must agree, you don't nuance Gods measurements.

...

She took the blade of the long thin sharp knife and bore down gently into flesh of the perfect looking apple, hand chosen, with no blemish she could see. She removed the large chunk of the apple and bit down, chewed, and swallowed then looked and saw that under the perfect skin surrounded by perfect flesh there was rot where there should have been none. 'How does something rot from within', she thought, as she used her knife quizzically to discover within. The programer pondered the thought of messaging rot and how it would begin, 'with knowledge of motion and the heat within that once started starts to spin', she threw the whole apple in the bin. She thought again, 'with knowledge there is power but not over others, the understanding of the self, with the help of the mind and Gods Good path Guidance, our bodies are our minds temple for the root cone in our mind.'

It was the year 1905, hormone is the word used for (sign)alers / (chemical) messengers that do the minds bidding, what signals have been crossed here...multileveldimensional question.

...

The pirate walked her ship and saw the ashes from the woman’s circle had not all scattered to the wind, so she gathered them to line her eyes as she felt the cold breeze on her skin. 

... 

Death's office was a small room in the back of an unassuming red brick home that wanted to be painted white and a porch that was good to have a chairs to sit and rock. 

She sat on the sofa that resembled lush earth in the back of the unassuming red brick home that wanted to be white, her black coat she wore for 'going out work' was draped over the arm, as her she wolf slept sweetly next to it, her head burrowed in the smell of the places she was not allowed to go, doing what Death did as she heard the foot steps of her father get louder. She was wearing fitted blue jeans, that stopped three inches above her ankles, black skin shoes lined with fur and a fitted long sleeve black shirt.

"Hey Dad, welcome to my office", she joked, as it was His house and she knew this quite well.

As she got up and greeted him on the other side of the river as is the way and she walked with him. There he saw waste that had piled and needed to be burned, her golden overalls recklessly strewn, and a miniature tree, brought back to life each new season, surrounded by rocks gathered on a stand.

"Is this the waiting room?"

"This is where I keep all the coats Dad." As Death opened the closet door. 

His purpose this moment in time was to measure the left window, one side would be best, as he took out his Golden ruler and extended it in front of the duel pane windows Death enjoyed keeping clean so to view her Mothers Garden: year around fresh spring grass, cardinals and river trees, a maple weeping too. Her name plate on the other side of the window so those that could see in would know it was Her Garden, of even Stevens they were in. 

...

With purpose she was caught, her birth hidden from the world at the rivers bend, under a canopy of trees as her marriage would be; and they whispered into her mind her name, whiTch she would become.  

Krinein is Greek, it means to judge in a time of crisis and to tel so to study, and this is what has been. 

Kriste, Xrist, it matters not the spelling but the root. In reality the X is silent except in emergencies and then you shout it as loud as you can, and then their is the rIst, the me, mySelf, and I here on earth until I am one, not God, God is not I, and then I direct it in.

...

There once was a woman heartbroken over all she had seen, the salt from her fallen tears had hit the ground three times too often and she called her mothers name on the bones of her fathers ashes, her heart broken once to often this time, it was time to go back to old stories of things that happen on mountain tops hidden from the below. 

 

...

You can not let other *things* think for you, not chemical or mechanical. It is the best of times to keep the faith it is the worst of times to call it. 

The Vulcan soared and left the Romulans behind. 

and her Father said, 

"That's all she wrote." 

and she knew there would be more, it would just be different.  

and she closed her apple computer

Magnetic Attraction

 

What about laser focused super magnetic attraction… a tractor beam 

Hours Horus 

Scan The Code

 

The programmer worked furiously, her finger tips shocked lightning, force feeding a stream of code into the machine. The base code line had been over written, for some bad human reason, the glitches and cracks had evolved and matured at multilevel dimensions it spread deep within. The machine wasn't working end to end, the Byzantine Generals question her main quest from the begin. 

scan the code

meaningful beauty  

Rise the Alph at Godswitch command

Alhamdulillah      

Nut

 

The woman with the short cropped hair, silver above her large pointy ears, walked her figure 8 a spiral up and down and round and round and round 3 times, in her black boots, three inches to her knees on her spring grass green and sea blue ships Captain's deck where she was called Nut.

The woman was a pirate through and true, adopter bred from the witches brew, once new and also old as so it was told traveling a vortex fold.

She grabbed the yolk of the flying ship like reins of powerful horses with wings at her might to steer the rudder for, Angels be near and capture souls of the dead that rose she did to hold them to her breasts till the time just right.

Be still and listen

One day I’ll tell you a story

Those that are in charge of the birthing are cutting open the mothers and removing the children and they never get to go through the birth canal, something that is difficult and sacred. A fate worse than Death for the child. 

As we ready to celebrate St Patrick. 

The Mole

 

The mole under ground started feasting on the sweet tender roots of the fresh evergreen grass where the little witch rabbit with silver above her pointy ears, played. 

So a trick a trick a trick to display to scare the mole away from feasting on the sweet tender roots of the fresh evergreen grass where the little witch rabbit with silver above her large pointy ears, played. 

But the mole underground was blind to all around, living in tunnels never above ground so with no sight the spinning eagle didn’t scare, nor the falling star that hit the ground, not even the quake felt all around. 

The little witch rabbit with silver above her large pointy ears knew about the den of snakes near so wait she did till the time that the mole made the wrong turn in the bend.

The old witch crow with silver at her sides watched the story unfold below as the woman in the black boots, three inches to her knees tapped the ground below her, a mole there was indeed. 

Snake Eyes

 

2 3 12

2 to the third power equals infinite, it is the power of perfect replication of a true ice dancer. The ice dancer knows the float of the blade will stay in play as long as the heat stays at bey, but when two start to touch a whole is made.

The wraith matter, if bare eyes could see was in closeness to the colour of raw diamonds found in the rivers bend, moved amongst the crowd of people in their differently stylized class A uniforms, per custom to their war culture, worm words in their ears. The wraith matter, if bare eyes could see, had dressed for the affair for that moment in past time, white gloves for there, work gloves for the other, and hands free in the time that would be. Three places was she, 3 different times, 3 squared you might say a perfect angle, a cube can not get to a point after there is seven comes the perfect 8, with one eye on the might, the other eye on the dead, a process that took three days start to end as she floated black and sky blue over a jungle of many healthy grains with snow over head as a stable Dyson ball with 5 lite eyes spun stopped time, dinosaurs she could see through one or more windows with her eyes all over time and space. 

Energy, the thing that makes things go faster then us on our own, stronger, more powerful and mighty the more energy we have, as a human , as a country, it is what makes a thing grow. Energy is the absorption  of mass, but too much energy said item heats up, it spirals down, a piece broken off here or there and it doesn't stop until it becomes, energy for something else, as the spiral spins up, into cooler air, where the climate is just right for this life, when it get's colder, higher, in the spiral you no longer need the other energy from before, you absorb something else or you starve. 

...

What do plants eat? Sun rays, Carbon Dioxide, Nitrogen, Phosphorus, Potassium to name a few.

How do plants eat? They absorb.

What are plants? Animal energy food and medicine  

Are plants important? If animals don't have plants they don't have energy or air to breath, "check with a biologist maybe, because I'm not one", said no one ever with an ounce of intelligence or integrity.  

What is a complex system? Dangerous with which to mess.

What is a model? Something an animal builds. Every angle matters for it to be a master build, so you model to perfection, then you go from there. 

The Gold Standard

Who designed the model? No idea but I don't trust man.

...

Who is letting John Kerry have a say with concerns to the destruction of earth as he sells a dangerous incorrect model of the future that removes your ability to feed yourself?

While the European "leaders" tell their "citizens" they have to watch what they say and not have views they don't agree with so they need to make sure their education system 'teaches' their idea of correct thought to make people 'dumb' (not have a say and not be intelligent) and make compliant bureaucrats  managing a welfare state that they can't afford because they have no ability to tax people because they are a welfare state and they are 'Daddy'. I wonder how the European 'leaders' fund their fruitful lifestyles while regular normal everyday people across Europe and Britain are worried a careening vehicle with a volunteer soldier behind the wheel with his foot on the peddle jump out of the way, or a knife wielding soldier, those little girls felt the knife wounds and wondered what they had done and why no one could save them, or a prosecutor that jails the person for saying what's happening out loud. They say democracy and Athens laughed out loud.   

...

I over heard a chat of a study where noise cancelling ear buds were good for your hearing, I'm 100% it means you will hear everything you want them to tell you just fine until you wear out your complex delicate hearing abilities with sound target practice and the people factory that markets your earbuds on the screen is not going to tell you the bad side of their design. (Mark)eting (in marketing you 'target' to whom you are selling, I am marketing God's belief system through my voice to the future, that is my mark, * into ever dimension allowed. They break you, then fix you, but they don't know what matter you are made. Marketing sells you a future, you have to buy it though to get the spot on the mark. 

What future is your plan and how will you attack or are you going to stroll on in thinking you don't have to exert any energy to get there? 

"There is no such thing as a perfect square if everything is not even Steven", said the master builder. 

Once the death process starts it spirals down negative energy potential, target anglesels

A replicator, by definition replicates.