THE HARVEST by Carol Lewis
Sacred Child: Living Lessons
Can you remember?
It began long before we. Whether it came as a flash or slow seeping I don’t know. An itch just below the surface of my skin reveals the knowing of what is and what has been. The dark ebbed into the blood flow of so many. So much so they forgot the light of their own grace within. A sludge settled in. Tarp across the heart, cataracts cover eyes leaving too many blind. Unable to see, live in and protect the light of our children.
Scratch and maybe you will feel the angst of long-ago orphan trains. Realize the bus ride, quick car ride or walk to school is the same. A handing off to strangers for days, years on end, manipulating, trans, changing the children. The thousands missing. And then…
Constant scatter. Constant chatter. Constant tech manipulation targeting natural divine design, led clearly to decline of self. Knowing. Engagement with one’s own senses. Soul. Creation. Discernment to uncover the contrived. By golly unloaded with gun folly, a cartoon creation of a boogeyman whose soul design was the crown. Hiding beneath the corona crest was the rest of the mess, hydrogel, nanobots, digital interface connects 5G internet via cell raping patents presented as lifesaving. Like back in the day…give us your children, we will keep them safe, as you love them, we will take your place.
Sticker spots where children used to play, demanding stay six feet away. Printed years before the unnatural disaster. A dampening of the resonance of heart. Once amplified, now forgot. Lock them in. Close the windows. Close the blinds. Teach them their skin, their breath is sin. A fiend rather than friend to be smothered by masks and sanitized with constant wipe, spray, and douse. The whole of the body suddenly artillery to kill your brother, grandmother, lover, spouse. We watch as the elderly, our history, our memories smother, suffer and release their last breath, alone swaddled in plastic wrap. Babies born, deformed by constant masking. Not knowing a smile. We did nothing.
A big bang is the tale they say is how they claim we came to this place. Overnight, a cough, the cold, the flu we always had, now a weapon that would end our race. So, we taught the children. Held them against their will. Held them down to receiver a sticker, free hamburger, or pizza from Big Bird, without saying a word, knowing their forced injection, penetration of skin is
by deviants in awe and disgusted by humanity. Devilish envy of our inevitable ability to create beyond measure. Love beyond measure. Mirror the presence of a higher source. To cease the presence of the divine, always present in the clear exchange of breath, heart connect and the glimmer in one’s eye. Fog diffused, now breathing in the micro bombs breaking through brain barrier, waste, one’s own debris now an assault as if one’s presence is the enemy. Every soros swab is an act of defilement, distortion and by decree. Free access to our babies.
A cold wind blows outside our window. Leaves become brittle, lose their grip from dried stem and flutter in vibrant color to the ground. If left untouched for a while on asphalt, they leave a shadow where their hue once was. A chilling reminder for all of us to catch our leaves, the children before they fall. Rediscover your purpose in this place. To secure the gift that is our grace.
Our spirit guides.
We cannot hide behind fear, ignorance, or shame. For if we allow them to alter our children. Give them to the clinched claws of the devilish, we only have ourselves to blame.
Until when the surviving, mutated children recall the harvest as an itch beneath their different skin, knowing we allowed, we participated in the decimation of their dreams and the burning to ash, their freewill. No matter the distortion of cell design, DNA play and frequency invasion, the surviving children will remember we allowed the mass abduction/abortion of their souls. What then?
About Carol Lewis
Why I Joined the HUB
There is no other place to be. We are the seeds. We are the promise spoken by the divine. For our children, we must recover our innate powers, embrace our imaginations, hone our skills, and commit to building a world that honors the soul and grace in them and all of us. I offer to all of you, my services as an author and innovative, free-thinking educator as we transition from old schools to regenerative learning for this new age. I am humbled and inspired by our children and the community in this sacred space. I look forward to joyful and fruitful collaborations.
This post was originally published on from Randy Rowe and can viewed here: https://newagora.ca/the-harvest-by-carol-lewis/