Freed from the clutches of fantasy


Freed from the clutches of fantasy, dreaming, and superstitions I can now appreciate my oneness and uniqueness within the cosmos. I am in harmony with all universal frequencies which is the nucleus of existence. Lights and reflections have absorbed me into its frequencies of sounds, and colors, and truths, where I can except knowledge on its terms without superimposing my assumptions into them.

I freed myself from the coils of cultural stagnation by being willing to question what people who want me to see and experience the universe through their lenses have taught me. I have raised myself from the sphere of the willful blind and the willful foolish who want to cradle me into their narrow graves with them.

It is difficult to obtain freedom within a world built on lies. Obtaining true knowledge is becoming increasingly difficult. What is true knowledge? And will I except what the evidence tells me, or will I select knowledge based on a preconceived opinion instilled in me from childhood? I know that there is a biological difference between a male and a female. I know that those are two unique and separate entities within the universal frequencies of existence regardless of what the misguided are trying to tell me.

Freed from the horde who are eagerly rushing towards their slaughter and who are doing all that they can to bring it about as quickly as possible. I am one with life and I am one with death and I have sense enough to know that the planet Earth has always undergone climate change and will continue to do so as long as it exists.


The buffoon says that I am because of what I have, and crafty subliminal imagery perpetrated by those who hold themselves aloft from the thoughtless horde and hate everyone and everything are misleading the wise. Clandestine are the works of the destroyers of minds having their mechanisms and machineries well in place before a potential horde member is even conceived; in the foods that we eat, in the liquids that we drink, in the air that we breathe, in all the frequencies that constantly bombard our bodies infused with think suppressant codes.

The back yard is overgrown and unkept whereas the front yard is an Immaculate conception of attention and care. Why is not the back yard as flawless as the front yard? Who knows and who cares, that is not the point. The point is consistency in housekeeping and where you draw the fault lines of good housekeeping practices, clone work, and distinctive construction. I imagine that the front yard is an Immaculate conception seeded from on high and I imagine the back yard to be a heavenly rebellion cast down on my property. Given the evidence of the seen and the understood, which one of these housekeeping possibilities is most likely to be true?

Being free I have the luxury of being able to analyze the above scenarios without the dense cloud of indoctrination interfering with my quest for knowledge. And my quest for knowledge tells me that the front yard carries more self-esteem than the back yard for the homeowner. This is as simple as a male cannot produce an egg, it must have an egg produced by a female implanted into it.

Freed from the clutches of a whitewashed view of the world I can soar into the multi-universe of consciousness where even its chaos has rules, structure, and purpose. The conventions of the recently mutated are trying to turn the fundamental into the inconsequential and an absolute into something trivial. I am free to know that lie shouts louder when the lie is exposed unwilling to fall away gracefully, if you can call all the harm, ignorance, and death that the lie has perpetrated as being a graceful surrender.

The rapture is happening right before our eyes because it is a rapture of the mind into a higher elevation of thinking and not religious nonsense that so many people are looking and hoping for and are even working for by their support of a certain people who are nothing more than identity thieves.

With freedom comes discipline and self-control, knowing nonsense when it hits you in the ears and not becoming full of yourself, for that is what the whitewashed sepulcher does, thinking themselves to be the ultimate definition and source of knowledge.

Freed from the clutches of fantasy, dreaming, and superstitions I can now take a realistic look at myself, and as I discover myself there are allot of things about myself that I don’t like, but that’s ok because I have the freedom to work to change them for the better.