AT THE SQUARE

I'm remembering sitting at the square looking at a handkerchief it was white I sat by a water fountain I looked up and the sky was silver for a moment so beautiful bright like a pearl shining! Then thunder clashed I looked all around it grew colder and the rain was coming.  I sat in my skirt and high heels a summer dress this was not going to do!  I folded the gentle fabric put it away and got up something hit me that this force was all around me changing things so suddenly like a soft mirror morphing holding me captive.  I got up to go home walking quickly in the rain for the cat to drive home.  That was the last life.  It is like this in Canada sitting waiting for things to happen in The City of Angels like this wet cloud of rain hovering where I'm enveloped in the moisture of tears behind faces that have been betrayed that have plastered false smiles on them to behave cordially so no one gets in trouble.  Their faces ooze sadness they hide.  The silver lining is difficult here.  We have been silenced so hard into stillness and finally conditional momentum in the cold north.  

I feel like I hide in alleys and dart out in the streets and escape death daily glad to wake up to be alive. To feel occasional sun on my face to eat a warm meal to watch a poignant film to work at my work.  I told all turned my flesh that had been turned to subquantum and back by my adept energy practice and back down inside out it felt wrung out again wringing out all the truth squeezing it out till it was all out shocking cracking the doll faces composure to stir beneath the playacting of acceptance in behavior.

My blue butterflies waited in the corner of the room to fly one day into the quantum field of liberty of the awakened alchemical bunch who held a sliver of hope and shined it up like a piece of broken glass that may cut yet it reflected an unaltered image of their faces looking into it with intense scrutiny for their sanity intact.  That is what happened in this timeline and the silver sky followed to this life to this country to wait for people to thaw out from the hardships we all suffered and had to hide.   Life what is it?  It is truth or we are shells that carry fear rotting the flesh with disease eventually as the body cries swelling in depression for its silent suffering and lack of full expression permitted. I wish the doves would fly again fee and the blue butterflies hatch to freedom from oppressive land and skies.