Ink seeping into porous paper.
Sounds silently form.
Soliloquy, accessing empowerment to evolutionize a galaxy, emerges.
This is what word is to me.
A code.
A spell.
A concept conveyed, potent and primed to sculpt the multiverse; if not delivered by word, then by what?
I have word in this lifetime. 🥲
And as ideas flow endlessly through my brain, egged on by emotion, and passion, and the possibility of these pristine potentials tingling @ my fingertips…
I turn to the written word.
Thee most articulate, MOST precise way that I (emojis aside 🤪) currently know how to COMMUNICATE.
WORD!
**This is Clear Word.
**Welcome :))
Sharing my (hi, I’m Clear 🤟🏻) word is an experiment in exposure.
This inevitably takes me to: *Who Am I?
*Who is writing?
Who is being exposed?
Who’s word is this?
Great question, guy.
I write to reveal my True Self to me. To write offers me a study of Clear’s deepest interests. It slows down the thoughts, inner conversations, and epiphanic ideas; experiences emerge in articulate detail, precise, and logged forever, to be referenced for potentially eons to come. I’m obsessed.
My True Self is a story I get front row seats to. YES I would like all the dirty details please.
See, I am never too much for the word. It holds me in whatever I am coming from, mulling on, or trudging through as mud.
We can be still together.
It waits for me.
My ability to Know this life expands as my word bank grows. And I am worthy of this expansion. I am worthy of this Knowledge.
The word honours my Knowledge by name.
The word is both ancient and fresh, birthed by the ravenous desire of ancestors and I to connect, and to share the Truth in togetherness.
An alphabet came through at age 8. New words come forth while I contemplate. They come at night while I lie awake. New worlds.
To weave words is to create worlds.
Too, to create worlds is to wield Free Will.
See?
I write for my Freedom.
I write to exist.
No, but writing songs just wasn’t enough anymore.
How many legato syllables fit into 3 minutes? Like, 7?
No! It’s not enough for my Spirit.
And how many preconceived notions tarnished each beat I wrote on.
Beautiful, yes, but drenched in layers of sonic connotation.
I am out of muses who fit the Prototype. 🤷🏼♂️
I AM THE MUSE, Bitch !!
The Pleiadians are the Muse.
Meditation,
and Cannabis,
and Giant Trees
are The Muse™
And I am free to share what I Know of this True Muse.
I am free to explore the impact of my integrity, uncaged by aged complacency, falsed cowering in basicness.
I am FREE now…surrendered. I am whole here; remembered.
Do you Remember what it is like?
The ability to see dreams and believe them as memories?
Can you remember Our Bright Future, too?
With its tall grass and its clean air.
With its golden glow.
We love it here..
May Clear Word serve as a reminder.
Perhaps a prayer, parable, a preamble to Epiphany.
Nothing less than a record of my internal discussion, evolving data, sentience.
My word is my signature, telling you I was here & I meant it.
In integrity,
Clear
P O S T - A M B L E
What concept do you, dear Collector, desire to witness filtered through Clear-Consciousness? *I do retain permission 2 VETO hehe.. but… am curious :3
And…what makes your Heart Glow Gold?