Winds of freedom (The desert rose)

Winds of freedom (The desert rose)

In the pyramids of Cheops and Micerinos, media monks, and ascetics, they will wear white tunics, made of fine cotton and linen. White tunics soaked in cold sweat, and tears of clear oblivion. Tears of blood shed, by the intense suffering of man and eternal oblivion. With their supplications, they will open the sealed doors of the celestial vault, to liberate from oppression the vilely enslaved people. People enslaved by poisonous snakes, sacred symbols of evil ruling pharaohs. And the serpents will bite, cruelly, the red petals of your spirit. And spit, vilely, on the scars of your heart in love, plundering the deepest treasures of your beloved. The roofs and walls of your dwelling will resound, with the click-clack of the clock. Immemorial time clock. Immemorial and immortal time. The lions and tiger leopards will roar fiercely, to catch your dreams, your dreams full of charm. They will roar, captives and prisoners, enraged by envy and hatred, in their chained cages of gold and silver. Silver, rotten and aged, in the early morning sadly captive. Captive and asleep lies the conscience, in the libertarian memory of your people. People vilely enslaved under the Egyptian yoke. Village of white butterflies and beautiful flowers of Alexandria.
Blinking the stars, these will signal your destiny; your real destiny and your path to the white light, to the heavenly and immortal abode. Hearts of rhythm will not stop beating, by the thunder of fury; Fury of the gods, creators of the war between brothers. Between peoples they will fight, through the centuries, without mercy, without listening to the songs of the divine angels. And your lashes will fall exhausted, exhausted by such a cruel wait, in the reverberations of the aurora borealis. Northern lights, in the austral summer. You will not fear oblivion, nor your cruel enemies. You will always remain protected, by the divine shield of the gods of Olympus. They will wash the labyrinths of your memory, with the water of the spring, sacred and hyaline. Your white soul will shine hyalina, attracting, remembering fond memories, of your blessed lost innocence.
And your beloved prince will keep fidelity to your immortal existence, beyond eternity, beyond the indescribable and pragmatic reality. With aloe vera, myrrh, and incense of sri sai flora you will cleanse your white aura, your pure aura, immaculate and ethereal. Stunned, for your stormy past, you will beg the guardian angels to send you a pious signal, a miraculous sign. You will need to clear the darkness of your life, purifying the ethereal body of your intense attachments. You will empty your mind of concepts, in a gentle river, among sweet dreams.
There will be no danger, you will be the owner of your own life and you will choose to be free, as a messenger dove to the wind, in the immensity of the etheric universe. You will not repress the joys of intense waterfalls, nor the calm rivers of weeping. You will be eternally free, like the breeze of the oceans, like the crystalline waves in the African corals. Meanwhile, the black steeds will move away, galloping through the distant mountains of mirror and crystal. And on their jet-black backs, they will carry the weight of the yoke of your samsara, of your internal suffering. When the rains flood your dwelling, impregnable and captive, your healing love will transmute the agony of your beloved people. It will transmute the pain of slavery, in exquisite mana and rich orange blossom honey. And they will turn the gray colors into rainbow solidarity. In the luminous path there will be fleeting fires, by immense droughts, silver reflections of the desert of life. And you, you will save the promised land, with the rains and dew of life. Dew of life that will bring Tefnut, lioness goddess of the Ancient Kingdom. Remember your beloved town the day you were born. Innate memories of the desert of your life, fine shines of clear dawns. Sunrises of golden arrows, in your beautiful sleeping heart. Silver blue aura, intertwining threads of fine cotton in the subconscious.
Winds of distant aromas, magical aromas of oriental incense, jasmine of lavender and flower of Nepal. Winds, fine sparkles of silver, intertwining immense white chains, for Mother Liberty. Freedom of a slave people. Essene people, chosen people within the Hebrew people, under the blue sky sweetly iridescent, under the snowy mountains, under the starry skies of Asia. Meanwhile, you, oblivious to rumors and legends, will cradle your longed-for child in your arms. Son longed for and expected, for this people vilely enslaved. Enslaved by pharaohs, who rock and hide their most bitter sins. Sins, bitterness of the absolute darkness of life. Infinite darkness of the infernal abyss. And his dark hand will be a guide, faithful counselor, in the black jungle of the deepest misery. Ancestral superstitions will stalk your memory, and it will invade the universe of life, with moral principles and values. Fraternity, equality and austerity, essential moral values ​​of the Great White Brotherhood, in the monasteries of Krmel and Qumran. Art of the sweet word of the Essene people. Collective memory of a people, beautiful smile chosen from the universe. Shine in the vastness of transparent oceans, in starry nights of satin velvet. From the desert of the Winds words with beautiful sounds are praised: Peace, gratitude and truth. Sacred words of an ascetic people. Beautiful sounds of spring, ancient music and fantasies with a metal flavor. Sweet sounds, fresh spring waterfalls, beautiful crystals of the essentials. Sounds of mantras, hyaline crystals in the atman. Yesus, Yesus! Om Namah Shivaia! Aissa, Aissa! Rainbow of broken lights, fine sparkles of copper and silver, with golden ruby ​​dawn and amber skies. Sounds in the recumbent silence of a humble, initiatory people. People of free spirits flying, like immortal hawks, towards the shores of the Dead Sea, towards the desert of Judea. Canaanite spirit of the Essene people escaping freely, over the summits of Judah, towards the Jordan valley, towards Beit Shemesh “Eternal City of the Sun.”

Maika Etxarri
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Soy un espíritu libre poeta, enarbolando la bandera de la paz y libertad, en este universo existencial. Vivo en el eterno presente, aquí y ahora, bajo el poder del amor, sin la incertidumbre del mañana, sin la esclavitud del nuevo orden establecido mundial. Maika Etxarri Escritora, poeta, blogger y fotógrafa Autora del libro: La rosa del desierto
Esta entrada fue publicada en Book the rose of the desert in english, Compass Rose (The desert rose), Desert walker (The desert rose), Lit white candles (The desert rose), Maika Etxarri Writer, poet, blogger and photographed by heart Author of the book the rose of the desert, Memories of sweet dreams ( The desert rose), Mother Freedom (The desert rose), Sin categoría, Son of the Sun (The desert rose), the desert, The desert rose, The desert rose, book by Maika Etxarri, The rose of the desert, Tibetan Songs (The desert rose), White rose without thorns (The desert rose), Winds of freedom, Winds of freedom (The desert rose). Guarda el enlace permanente.

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