92.

It mustn’t shine open,

The inevitable light, is a force that must be brought to notice.

But instead be a thing that is revolved in.

A central point and source,

That is a thing that we can resort,

When things are going bad report,

And bad language is retort.

Matters of devolving…

A light that has become evolved in,

Reaching all to a point,

Of touching spirits, likened to an anoint.

A society that has become disease like.

It is so hard to become a free mind.

But some source has made it a point,

To caused all to afford —

More time to get in touch within.

To run clear of all sin —

Extreme pursuit, or poor stagnation.

This time of existing is pure elation.

A society of adjourn,

We’ll pick up speed later on,

but for now & as of now:

The world is beyond our control.

The sky’s now have a hold,

The people are becoming slowed,

And we are now growing in touch with our infinite soul.

However, form that takes —

Now is the time to create that space.

Entering on a new level of humanistic stage,

No longer a craze or societal daze:

Breaking olds ways, and habits.

Breaking an old stage, of badness.

We shall enter on in gladness.

Freedom is a mindset, that we can all simply grasp in.

Not being trapped in, masks that clasp us.

Our mind is not even our master…

Our hearts are what make us,

And our souls are what task us.

We shall move forward in numbers,

Changing the world within, and outside of us.

Filling our lives with laughter,

With eternal joy as our capture.

Perhaps, this is the great rapture.

Lives shaken, and taken.

We shall brazen, and make it.

No longer faking,

Our amazing;

Power latent,

No longer basic.

We were caged in,

But now we are,

Stars sitting adjacent,

As neighbors,

We are to uplift.

Keeping our spirits up,

We are to just shift.

Keep on going.

What are we fearing, love?

Is it death?

Is it injury?

But may I remind you,

That our souls are eternal, literally…

Pure energy.

We shall go forward willingly.

No fear to fly or die.

No tears, shall blacken our cry.

The light, is our source of anchor.

The fight, is our source of anger.

This virus is a challenge,

But like needles we shall keep sowing.

Building a quilt, of brilliance, like snowflakes in snowing.

Disregard conspiracy claims.

True realism is our aim.

True life, is here our game..

True growth, is here our pain.

The collective consciousness, is here but strange.