I planted a forest of honest thoughts 
and they grew into sentient beings.

They welcomed the descendents of lost civilisations.

Sheltering Crystal seedlings under cosmic canopies they were all knowing, and all seeing.
The forest floor was adorned with shattered stars. 

Tribal kin with battle scars.

Heavenly capillaries,
Sacred vessels.
Tribal tessellations.
Formulas once forsaken taken 
back through the eye of Nubia's needle.

Come pree and see my quill spill celestial prequels and sequels in equal measure. 

My cup runneth over like the clover carpets that cloak the roots of these ancient Oaks.

Taps open like estuaries, tides meet streams and the water of the bearer flows.

Timelines implode, codes crack like shattered glass, the shards of the future and the past fly past.

The age of Aquarius arrives.

We align in the 5th via the 3rd,
Indigos re-birthed Crystal Rainbows.

Purple prisms precipitate royal reign, though seedlings formed of cosmic dust must too fall like rain;

Regardless, energies remain. 
Planets with multiple suns become points that pin me to divine branches.

I watch the leaves leave as autumn leads us into the cold again.

See sons of old glimpse glints of change like flints that spark in darkened caves.

It's what happens when amazing is amazed by it’s amazement. 

I give thanks for the infinite abundance that thunders through this village. 

We are the storm after the calm.