Posted on Friday, November 13th, 2020 at 11:46 am and is filed under Art of Dying, Poetry | 0
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From Greek letters and numbers came the Kabbalah

Hence a body called truth came forth

Without these mysteries of letters and numbers, you couldn’t go north

The truth in the Gospels could only be fathomed through the Kabbalah


Written in parables, you see and you don’t see

The duality of here, not there set in motion

In the sleeping soul, the blind and ignorant take caution

Not knowing that it isn’t by words but by sound musical key


The apostles speaketh the word through the soul

Reading without the resonance from the soul creates swords

Makes words empty, the soul interprets swords to words

But with blood the Kabbalah came to the word in a sleeping soul


Hence, they had the power to interpret and manifest

The resonance in frequency of the sound

The Hebraic language is high in resonance pound

Manifesting for the few out of this blood fest


So, if you are clinging to the bible, be aware

Search deep within your soul to guide the tide

For the slithering serpent hides in words, that’s his pride

And parables he took for material gain not soul growth rare


But as the soul awakes, suddenly the Hebraic language is availed

It is losing its power, its power lay in soul death

But as we wake, they fling the wreath

It’s too late, the mother has been unveiled


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