Virtual Reality Poetic Prophecy - The Woman in the Wood

I <3 U Ɛ> I
I >Ɛ ∩ 3<I

Etched in the glass of a wood framed mirror,
Virtually every story is already told
Even this one:




The woman stood amid the planted trees
And at first felt satisfied and joyous.



But the joyousness and wonderment
Disappeared and left her with a terrible sense of guilt. 
"What have I done?"


Some things cannot be undone,
Though she set about making amends.
She would make a burnt offering.
But what sacrifice could atone
For her part in the deviant deed?

She decided then to scorch the earth with spit and fire
And even to burn the Great Citadel,
That fortress of the highest place
Measured in distance and dimension alike.

Then, like a nocturnal cat,
She walked the route we still travel.
____________________________________________


Make a cedar box,
Rigid, rectangular, and reddish-blue in color.
On it is written a cardinal number: 40 and 4.

____________________________________________

She lays in wait to capture you and do you harm.
She is the finger pointing to the end.




The high priest knows and wears an apron-like vestment.
With a cord, he fastens together those who are gathered
In places of readiness.  
These are those who
Possess a personal identity of self-reference
Knowing Truth to be true, speaking in statements, and
Saying, "Be strong, be astute, and be courageous."




"So be it."

I >Ɛ ∩ 3<I

________________________________________________________________________
They then stood firm in support from all fixed places
Bound together against the female slave.
The woman desired this, knowing that
We are all bound together all the same
As desire binds two ideas-
If a father, then a mother.
10 times one hundred
In amount or in number,
The woman lost her husband
But she is bound to the guilt 
And 
Grief-stricken at having lost
The Mightiest One and His highest rank of office.




Our oath is made, as is hers, and
The Mighty One
Sustains us each in our own way.
We daily eat the bread
And we daily drink the water
Here on the attacked island.



When we reach the final point
That marks the end,
In the back, following,
One remains and follows after another, and
A time comes beyond another event, so
Take hold of your property to keep in restraint.

The woman is a sister.
She's the sister to her brother.


Listen and give your ear:
The sign is illuminated in the sun, moon, and stars:
The storehouse keeps items of subsistence,
Held and protected,
In a circular frame
Like the axis on a wagon.

Vanity, with its improper purpose,
Is only an exterior appendage serving to
Cover a doorway.
Inside, the dwelling is made of
Black goat-hair.
That's no matter:
Feelings of tenderness and personal ties
Are the grounds and the basis
For a firm foundation,
And the surface of the earth, reddish in color,
Is characteristic of man
Who was made from the earth
Into the very first man.



The descendants, now lords of the community,
Weep for stones
Exerting their power and status and
Giving approval and willingness to go somewhere
Separate from the whole
And apart from the father.




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