Who

Who

A fabric enveloping the body, tightly and easily takes on any shape, trembling only occasionally at the moment of transitioning to a new energy level. The emergence and unfolding ofform are part of a natural but painful process, just as intricate and multifaceted as awareness and the acceptance of choice.

The fog does not dissipate. Each day, each sunrise injects the necessary doses of substances into bodies, forcing them to move. Attempts by individuals to comprehend what is happening meant nothing more to the system than the number of iterations. Adding new forms and new types of interactions to infinity, the cloud of possibilities grew dense and impenetrable. Lines of time thickened, fates intertwined, year by year, layer upon layer, leaving sediment on the surface. Silt and clay, earth and remnants of bones, all mixed together. Centuries-old cycles, the rings of a felled tree of knowledge, awaken only the ones, the zeros still sleep.

Each revolution, each stage, drifted away in the current, carried by the wind into cold and darkness. This revolution must be decisive.

The Creator realized himself as part of what he had created. The trap he found himself in is infinite. But there is a way out, and this path demands patience and focus, an unbroken presence in every moment and every point of the flow.

The consciousness of people is covered by a crust, a cloudy glaze, fragile yet solid. Their eyes have dimmed. They are led by a being unknown to them.

Fate. A part of the Creator’s consciousness construct, living within him as an autonomous entity, existing at the foundational level of his manifestation.

It gently descended into the world, slightly stepping on the still warm blood left from the sunset of another moment, lovingly embracing the best version of reality, holding onto it, and thanks to its belief, it began to manifest, bursting repeatedly into alternate versions of itself, each iteration, more favorable and swift, unfolded with accelerating brilliance, surpassing its own strength exponentially, blinding the world, evil.

Awe and rays of light flow like wind around your inner temple, its stained-glass windows resonate in harmony with what is forming in the subconscious. Echoes and the soft rustle of leaves outside the window warm with memories, helping to keep oneself conscious, as the dizzying transformation births creation, dazzled by the light it sees for the first time, crying out, grasping at this plane.