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In The Mirrors Appear The Three Eyes The Metronome Hymn Pattern, If The Notes Are Chosen Carefully Ye May Unlock The Plane of Gods Frequency

The awful taste, a bitter paste on the face of your enemy, one you gaze upon with enmity. Are we all not just energy, for what separates us but that of our inner eye the inner me, the inner you, judging this that separating me from what you are. For what clue do we have which tells us this? What is it that makes us different other than the words indicating the language we speak? With words we label, separate and divide but what happens when you remove such things, and listen only to the rhythms?

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Vitória Schwarzelühr

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