"You are too big for the world. You always have been, every time, and you always will be. Heed that, daughter. Find your path and do not change your mind. For there will be many."
So spoke my mother, in one of those gloriously candid snapshots of the sacred alliance of mother and daughter. Boy, they were a piece of Elysium incarnate when they happened upon me. A mother's love is nowhere close to something to take for granted. That, in solemn retrospect, is my herald.
Do I speak any more on this subject? Or is the dust relinquishing its form, and returning to nothingness in wait once more? These are the big questions which even God seems to be at a loss to comprehend and shed light on. They say happiness is the key, and the choice.... Where is happiness when the concept is more of a stranger than the girl I used to be? My guess is it is some sort of cosmic consequence from delving so far deep into the hidden recesses of humanity's nature to self-destruct. Such knowledge, while of a wordless value, constitutes a hearty risk and is akin to a forbidden fruit that will put to shame even the most potent of amphetamines or opiates.
I float, hacking away at the keyboard to quiet my rapidly stirring mind. Once again, beared with the weight of a knowledge the general populace has yet to acknowledge. This isn't fourteenth-century Europe or Babylon anymore. In this superficial, sickening society, rather than the respect and praise I am due, rather than entitled to...this Angel of Revelation is mocked and isolated for her visions and gifts. It tears at my heartstrings....for I know the latitude of love and help I have to offer...yet a complacent, braindead collective will once again, refuse to listen.
July sixteenth, of the year two thousand and sixteen. I may be correct, I may be incorrect. This will come to light in ten days due time. By God, I am ready. On the off chance the latter manifests, I want my out. Golden, Colorado at this present time contains a twenty one year old that has willingly given up the ability to stuff my voice down. And that will not change.
Gabriel has a hidden side, thanks to godforsaken drugs, that I will forgive sevenfold before my heartkey will be anywhere near his hands. Raphael's paintings have his heart. He shines with the brightest golden light I have seen in him yet. Out of all of us, with the expected exception of J, R has become successful. Unspeakably proud of that brother. He deserves it. Michael is as run down as I am, more or less in parallel manners. Which in this highly advanced incarnation, involved unexplainable pains and experiences.
At last, the wings have been spotted. Many impossibilities are among us as I write. No matter where this multiversal mass of existence takes us, I will love and protect my own. As soon as life expands, they will beat like a drum with the appointees on my back, and out of this centrifugal cycle, we will extend our final farewell. Only the ignorant would blame me.
What a pleasurable parlay with eros it is, prepping a mystical manifesto. There is a chance that this prose will not meet another pair of eyes. If I had input on my existential epitaph, I am a woman who questions every rule and limit, with a quicksilver logos. Keep in mind my lilting, bumbling passion for life, knowing eyes, wild determination, and one of the truest hearts you will ever meet.
I wonder who remembers and recognizes me through that lens. I hope at least a few will.