On this Freyja's day in this month of Maia the trees are an unpolished emerald green as the rain falls all around. This day is good for travel to places there and yonder careful not to hit the ground.
I'm going to join you in your secret garden where the flowers always bloom, 12 stones away you are I can see in to your room.
...
When you put someone upon a stage, a pedestal, or let them pastor the sheep, you best hope they don't let them stray down the wrong way.
Do I need to tell you who Freyja and Maia are and what makes May so important in the Northern hemisphere, we are from the North, this is how you know.
I watched a woman pastor a flock of women down the wrong path of identity. She bayed and swayed and sang a tune, while she denied her Holy Mother's womb. There I sat in front of her, back straight, chin up, garland as my crown, as I watched her slither from post to pillar with out an ounce of humility. With pride she wore her skin of inequity an illusion of her mind and refusal to correct her sin. This woman pastor said she had had a conversation with God, in her secret garden; this garden I do sow, you will not bare fruit among thorns, collect the weeds and tie them in bundles for burning is not what she heard, she listens to another, all sent by God are We. The Holy War is in front of thee.
...
Always knowing nothing stays the same with time on terra, except the humans who can't escape their bondage to man, so design a future for it.
In to the Stone of Alexandria I spy
In to the past where the future I See
spins tick tock the clock
Where I stop it's no business for you to witness
till I stand in front thee
will it be wrath
will it be glee
will it be nothing
I See in to thee
Inshallah
and still, above all is God Our Father, creator of all.
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