Quote:
Originally Posted by redtailhawk
Abraxasinas,
Your poem is most beautiful, thank you for sharing it.
I will confess that my name is Maria; but I have never identified with it. My great grandmother's name was Mary, and we are not Latin, but Celtic. I am not a mother either.
I checked out your (?) site that the information on the Maria Number Matrix came from and it was most interesting. I am most interested in the science and physics when it comes to better understanding the "reality" we live in.
Cheers.  |
Hi Maria!
Just a short note. Part of the 'Grand Unification' and Metamorphosis of the Human Caterpillar into a StarHuman Butterfly of LoveJoy is the 'androgynization' of the present human DNA template.
This requires any man to MANIFEST his 'female shadow' say and vice versa requires any woman to realise her 'male shadow'.
This then will pacify 'the sexes' in that everyone so 'metamorphosed' (the new creation in scripture and scrolls of divers kinds) will become 'doubled' in a 'Natural Bisexual' SelfUnification (to do with DNA/RNA extension-coupling).
Now this journey is all to do with 'individualizations' and is intimately personal.
Suffice to say, that my progress in this regards engages a DISINCARNATE 'soul' called Maria.
Iow I am Maria in a twinsoul alignment. I have named my 'mathematical discovery' in HER honour, but this also applies to ALL woman, daughters, mothers, granddaughters and so on.
Here is another poem which accentuates this.
DE MORTUIS NIL NISI BONUM
{Speak Nothing but Good of the Dead}
Out in the graveyard;
inscriptions, words and plaques, all withering away;
like the flowers adorning them, so the dead do lay.
Waiting and waiting for someone to remember them
and not just in photoalbums or on the special days.
Memorials are built, meaningless constructions - lest we forget!
They all are forgotten, given time enough to sigh, to pass away.
The living are so busy preparing for their own demise, to die.
Little do they know, the busy ones, that the dead are still alive.
They watch over the living ones, they do, from a place so far;
yet so near they are, but why would they watch the way they do?
To understand the mystery is the noble thing to do - a gallant quest.
They wish to be remembered, to join in soul and mind , the body's zest.
A marriage betwixt the dimensions, a holy union in heaven with hell.
But can the fearful thoughts of the living see, their lovehearts tell?
The living are like snowflakes, made of water, so unique one by one.
But they melt away, to be fluid again - into the one great ocean, gone!
The dead are all one in the great seas, waiting to crystallise again in two.
To wake up to a new life again, as a snowflake-twin, asking: 'Love me too!'
Eternal life awaits the living, could they only reply to the dead's request.
But the alive ones linger and doubt, in vanity do they live their only quest.
SIC TRANSIT GLORIA MUNDI
{Thus passes away the glory of the world}
WhynoT