He was never part of this world, he never would be...
From the golden pinnacle of a slender crystal mountain, he surveyed the landscape far below him.
The Netherworld pulsed in fragmentary cycles and no one in the real world noticed its existence... People wandered the surface of their own beautifully rich landscape with unseeing eyes. They did not see the faded pulse of the Netherworld encroaching on their space, and they did not see their own incredible island ... of light ... in the middle ... of darkness.
The encroaching pulse quickened and slowed, its cycles were erratic. The Netherworld presence was growing weak. The shadow forms were afraid, uncertain, powerless. In their efforts to take on human form, they had not understood the basic nature of the world they sought to dominate.
Ghost emotions are the illusions that arise when Netherworld presence meets truth. Desperate, hungry, devoid... grabbing at strands of energy floating around the edge of the Vortex that creates an aura around life forms... The intruding shadow forms were shaking in a strange way as the central sun began to rise above the horizon. They could not see the rising sun.
The shadow beings could not feel the central sun's real world presence. All they could sense was a vibratory shaking as the real world began to fade into a ghostly form before them. The vibratory shaking sounded like FEAR.
The singular weapon they had used against humans was taking form inside them and shaking the shadow forms apart. The Netherworld was solidifying around them, the real world was fading from their grasp.
The Master looked back into the Earth culture's fragile roots... Faer, fyr, fuir, fire... danger... That was how it felt when the Celtic tribes first moved through the blazing time vortex, circling before them like a galaxy of fire.
"Faer!" muttered the voices.
When they came out the other side...
"Teine!"
The Gaelic voice uttered back across the aeon of space time.
The Master of The Vortex hesitated and looked back at a small gathering of people on a remote shore not so far from here...
"Fear is time," said Krishnamurti to a gathering of... who knows who they were?
Dressed in modern clothes, they seemed to be frozen... "Teine!" It was not the real world fading into shadow form, it was the separation of forms as the Netherworld lost its footing in the light. He stood silently watching the process from a plateau overlooking all frequencies.
The Ancient Ones had decided not to fight... What are 12,000 years to the Masters of Reality... They gazed ahead to the rising of the Central Sun, deciding not to disturb their seed. Leave it hidden in the earth. Their time will come... The decision was made...
The Master cast his gaze to an Island of Light far below. A blue orb guardian with a golden disk was watching over his friend. Distinct vibrations were converging, their colours of light merging, crossing and leaving forms behind. It was all about vibration...
Essential form taken from "EarthBrother"
on it's journey into the future...
The Netherworld pulsed in fragmentary cycles and no one in the real world noticed its existence... People wandered the surface of their own beautifully rich landscape with unseeing eyes. They did not see the faded pulse of the Netherworld encroaching on their space, and they did not see their own incredible island ... of light ... in the middle ... of darkness.
The encroaching pulse quickened and slowed, its cycles were erratic. The Netherworld presence was growing weak. The shadow forms were afraid, uncertain, powerless. In their efforts to take on human form, they had not understood the basic nature of the world they sought to dominate.
Ghost emotions are the illusions that arise when Netherworld presence meets truth. Desperate, hungry, devoid... grabbing at strands of energy floating around the edge of the Vortex that creates an aura around life forms... The intruding shadow forms were shaking in a strange way as the central sun began to rise above the horizon. They could not see the rising sun.
The shadow beings could not feel the central sun's real world presence. All they could sense was a vibratory shaking as the real world began to fade into a ghostly form before them. The vibratory shaking sounded like FEAR.
The singular weapon they had used against humans was taking form inside them and shaking the shadow forms apart. The Netherworld was solidifying around them, the real world was fading from their grasp.
The Master looked back into the Earth culture's fragile roots... Faer, fyr, fuir, fire... danger... That was how it felt when the Celtic tribes first moved through the blazing time vortex, circling before them like a galaxy of fire.
"Faer!" muttered the voices.
When they came out the other side...
"Teine!"
The Gaelic voice uttered back across the aeon of space time.
The Master of The Vortex hesitated and looked back at a small gathering of people on a remote shore not so far from here...
"Fear is time," said Krishnamurti to a gathering of... who knows who they were?
Dressed in modern clothes, they seemed to be frozen... "Teine!" It was not the real world fading into shadow form, it was the separation of forms as the Netherworld lost its footing in the light. He stood silently watching the process from a plateau overlooking all frequencies.
The Ancient Ones had decided not to fight... What are 12,000 years to the Masters of Reality... They gazed ahead to the rising of the Central Sun, deciding not to disturb their seed. Leave it hidden in the earth. Their time will come... The decision was made...
The Master cast his gaze to an Island of Light far below. A blue orb guardian with a golden disk was watching over his friend. Distinct vibrations were converging, their colours of light merging, crossing and leaving forms behind. It was all about vibration...
Essential form taken from "EarthBrother"
on it's journey into the future...
