Chris Youngblood May 2, 2024
Emptied from the waters, the womb.
Nine Digits assigned to replace nine planets aligned.
“Who told you, you were naked?”
The I, not the Eye.
I forgot Eye am pure energy disguised as matter.
I forgot the entanglement with Divine.
I forgot the reason Eye came to labor.
I remembered those nine digits though,
The last four especially testing what I thought I’d know.
Ingrained into me, a grain of sand, not special, devoid.
Hurled out into the void.
The nine planted to show individuality but no real speciality.
Hiding amongst the leaves once the innocence had ceased.
But Eye Remember.
Eye Remember the wounded healer who doused the wound with alcohol and stitched with grace,
Eye Remember the green language and my mother’s face.
Eye Remember being dismembered and sowed back together,
Wisdom found, unveiled and pulsed through the Caduceus.
Eye am the hawk in the tabernacle and Eye pierce through the veil.
Eye am not material, nor the sum of my mis – takes,
As the storyline changes, so the director.
The sum of all in the now, truly meta.
Endless possibilities with the moral compass,
Objective moral power meets entropy moral decay
The whitest teeth meet skid row fangs.
Strength in one, strength in the many, not digits
Quantifying quantum, our fulcrum.
Eye Re membered.
To heal the stones set on my fellows heart,
Spark the co creator hidden within the bark.
Eye Remember the past is not written,
Merely hidden.
Healed at the speed of light,
To return and take flight.
The light will illuminate those who open
And burn those who close.
But the free will of the observer has the choice which it will be,
Eye am the cause of the effects around me.
Caught the lightning bolt hurled freely,
Pointed into the temple, absorbed, redistributed,
A thousand orbs.
The light pulses through the dead energy,
Now I extract, counteract, straight metallurgy.
These properties rights not on paper,
Not participating, not interested in catching vapors.
Eye remember now, there’d be mad deals thrown my way,
Circumstances yes, but never once did I stray.
Just had to be hit with the bolt, to give me a jolt, remember the truth,
And pulsate it out with the vigor of youth.
The stitching done on the wound now stitching the white robe,
Fitting it now, tracing the points across three modes.
No longer naked, not in my own head,
Eye Remember to help wake the dead,
And live a life to keep spirit well fed.