There is a new Consciousness that is now anchored on the Earth through our Bodies, our actions and Words.

The name is a form, but an empty one if your word is not anchored in consciousness, in feeling, in mystery. The Mystery School, once so widespread in secret corners of the Earth, today reveals itself in what can no longer be secret: Self-Mastery. You do not need other external forms to know your own divine form today. Hand in...

A hissing flame runs through the body that kneels before what it neither knows nor has the means to know. The only symbol that is given to you as an Offering of the Violet Sun is an oval amethyst stone that is ingrained in your cells as a gift that you give to yourself because you knelt.

Chamueltook me to the beginning of my life. Pink, amethyst, blue and gold ran through my Body because I said your Name. He told me through the rush of water that there is so much to say and always will be! The words don't end.

Gabriellit my fingertips with spirals to unshape the shapes of the past. Gabriel tells me softly, the words are now mine and yours, let us shape the matter, as everything happens now!

The crystalline network that embraces Mother Earth receives the immortal glow from Uriel, arriving from the Great Central Sun, from here and beyond, giving the Body the movement of Ascension. A word that is from fire is a word that silences, takes away the voice and takes away reason, takes away everything, absolutely everything! Uriel says: That...

"I wanted to be like this child who translates the great telluric dynamics, incomprehensible and unfathomable, into visualizable feelings. I wanted to feel like the catalyst, the one who gently forces into you - from you - the enormity of the star in the night, that formless cloud, the only wave. I wanted, gently, to blow into the tight chests...

I am picking white petals from the sky, one by one, as I sink my feet into the Love of the Earth. The extension of my fingers is everyone who breathes, I breathe with them, and I direct my touch to them, to, sensitively, hand over my nourished hands to Nature. May I know, Mother Earth, what Intelligence it is...

If I can't find the word, it's because I'm trying to extend another whiteness into white; I know it present, I know it in movement, I know it as the foundation of a meaning...foundation. Your hands travel the distance of many incomplete worlds. Many worlds tell us about your hands because the worlds belong to them, and because the worlds...

Listen to each syllable of a new word, a hissing white body comes to transform a single letter into pyramids and sound spheres, a verse, a poem, Poetry into a lyric!