God sends a telegram from our future, the blueprints of our destiny which we stumble blindly to fulfill.

We are the child in a womb of consciousness yet to be born.  Our psychological clock is counting down.  The astrological calendar is running out.  We have slept through the long night, only to awaken minutes before daybreak.  Naked in the blinding light, stripped of illusion, the sleeper will rise on a razor’s edge.  And yes, some must awaken prematurely, to clear the dangerous path ahead for those who still sleep.

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