People, People...

I was stricken to my core last night.  Someone has obtained a photo of the interior of a warehouse, reportedly somewhere in China, jammed full with bodies.  Of humans.  Men, women, and children.  Naked.  Hanging, like cattle, or sheep.  Some already showing signs of slaughter, presumably for their organs.  And with eyeballs already extracted.  As though such items are delicacies.  To someone.

Or some thing.

And which is said to be but one of several such human abattoirs in that country...

,,,and there is the Disappeared children of the West, too; and all the pedophilic dirty business here...... 

People, people…

We are all ‘a piece of the continent, a part of the main,’ as the philosopher put it.*

Another way of putting it:

Where We Go One, We Go All.

I am reminded of a poem that I wrote many years ago, that went something like this (as I say, it was many years ago, now):

‘Under these two olive trees

Each make and mind appears 

                    dissolves

                             and comes

No more; but I was there, to tell of it

Beside this mountain stream, murmuring

Of places been and heights attained

To dash down then, and then 

To slip into the sea

To be risen up again

Relentlessly.’

How can you form and disappear at the same time?

Answer: If you are part of a Whole.  Of The One.

Forming.  And disappearing.  Forming.  And disappearing.

My message to you, dear Reader:

Form.  And disappear.

And understand what is happening.  To

You.

--

* John Donne’s XVII Meditation.  The ‘For Whom The Bell Tolls’ meditation.  As part of a body of work entitled ‘Devotions Upon Emergent Occasions’.

   Rather apt.  Wouldn’t you say?

---

From the Sublime to the Ridiculous:

I understand that talking heads at MSNBC have accused  Pres. Trump of wanting to “exterminate all blacks”.

Sigh.

Two things.  1) If I were Pres. Trump, I would sue the hell out of MSNBC.  And  

2) The NWO crowd, getting desperate, are obviously going for broke now, to attempt to trigger their civil war against America, in order to merge it, or its remains, into their totalitarian global state.

They must.  Not.  Have.  Their.  Way.

Their Way is the antithesis to a process unfolding to its state of Synthesis.  Whereby we Eathians will have reached a final stage of development.  For those who are ready to graduate into it.

For the rest:

They can have another go at The Play again.  

And see what kind of progress they can make, through it, that time around.

And around.  And around.

Until they get it, too.

'It':

The way off

The Wheel.