Circled Wagons

They circle their wagons, guns drawn protecting their prized possessions. Like vicious animals the weight of responsibility wears on them.

They plot and strategize to make sure no one breaks the perimeter, no one gets in. They never turn around, never look behind and they forget one thing.

What are they protecting? Who is the enemy of their souls? There is nothing in the circle, nothing inside, just a void.

Unee is with me.

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Unee is my God

Unee is my God.

She sits on her cushion in the crystal Temple of Why. Beside her is the pillar of white flame where intentions burn until they are clarified and pure.

She waits for us.

All of the great sages of the past knew her and visited her in her crystal temple; Jesus, Buddha, Bahá’u’lláh, Great Mary, Mary Magdalene, Brigid, Great Shamans. Their intentions were purified with her in the white flame. Sages who became so pure they ignited the world with their fire of change.

Unee is at my side.

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