I go back and forth every single day,
the clarity it comes to me in a choppy way,
as the feelings and the places
and the seasons change,
the galaxies remain.
Energy fields pullin’ up out of this space.
The angels that are a couple to the spiritual waste.
The hate that gets me distant from my spiritual pace.
Ten fold the manna when the planets are in place, in polar alignment.
We’re on assignment.
Bodies on consignment.
Return them to the circus.
And what is the purpose?
What is the purpose and would you believe it?
Would you believe it
if you knew what you were for
and how you became so in form?
Bodies of info performing such miracles.
I am a miracle made up of particles
and in this existence,
I’ll stay persistent,
and I’ll make a difference
and I will have lived it.