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Spílaiaus, noticing that Vernarth felt unprotected on the iridescent Nimbus, greeted Zefian; he was in the Phlegrean Fields reliving the Sibylline Treatises of the Pytia Cumea, when the last death rattle of the Universe began to beat with force Zefian sent from his Thracian Gold Quiver right next to where the Sibylline Treatises could materialize again by withdrawing the Arrow of the Vóreios where it began to protrude from the Doric stylobats of the Megaron, everything was comparable to the Parnassus from which Leto; Apollo's mother would grant them Vernarth's Megaronic Songs, making up for her withdrawal since he was saved from the fire in 548 BC.  from the Acropolis, being able to assent to the presence of Triads Women who moaned at him due to his deserted unbalanced voice without being able to receive his exclamations. Zefian then before the lightness of his cosmic phalanges withdrew the Fourth Arrow from the Phlegrean Fields; before it from the volcanic caldera, he released the nine books recovered in total from the six cremated, to then be pierced by Zefian's Arrow to finally project them towards the contiguities of Prophyits Ilias where their spirits appeared here with such reflections of Miletus conversing with each other that the beauty of Coronis was not enough tenor of Paralesias of the Firmament of Apollo, so the Heavens of Patmos had to be opened with the nine sybilline books along with Vernarth's Hellenic Trilogy to establish the Duoverse as paralesias of the world that would restart from the Ádyton to save the Inheritance and his astrophysicist strangulation.
Both vicissitudes of the Fourth Arrow were heading at incalculable speeds to collide and merge with the Arrow that pierced Apollo's Lynothorax to the detriment of Coronis, thus abandoning transcripts of the oracles that crossed paths in the Seventh Hour of Paralysis to later touch with holistic chrysanthemums with their pointed ivory ornaments that hung from the Universe wrapped in an omphalos, which became a Kosmous of wands encrusted with igneous flames to burn to a great degree among the stylobates that the upper canopy prevented from being incinerated from the rest, protecting the parapets from the Megaron that depended on the nearby Cloud of the Iridescent Nimbus where Vernarth resided in the armband patterns of the monarch Croesus.

Spílaiaus replies to Vernarth: “From this promontory, I go to your parents, I tell you that I see signs of great parapets where the center of the Kosmous rises; “The Ádyton, is closely linked to the fusion of the Quarta Saeta, and Septenario del Ibic or Virola to the depths of the Katabainen; whose Katabasis grows through places of impious land from a Megaron that is nothing more than traces of Lycurgus in limber blood that the tabernacle could not contain, nor could it dispossess for a chalice the firmness of an instigated Christus that could now flow and be reborn by submitting to Cyrus, and other satraps of the past, referring to the fact that Vernarth's asceticism depended on the minimum luminance that could come out of Tartar. Vernarth, distinguished himself more calmly when he perceived that Eurydice filled him with greater agreement with the one who is delimited from an underground room, than from a sub-empyrean who began to separate him from the parapets of the Megaron with the shape of a Howling Kosmous burnishing from the same district Strategoi.

In this way, the Adyton was made up of a temple with Seven Steps until the arrival of the fusion of Zefian's Arrow to collide with that of Apollo, then both being the curtain of the interface of the Duoverse that became oracular with the presence of Jerome de Estridón, and Spílaiaus taking them to the Forests of Parnassus and Kanthillana with the Pythonesses in the spurious Oracular of the nuptials. The Sybilla Herofila is present with her veil with the darkness of Castalia, with ceremonious gestures also in front of her the Sybilla Cumea for the brothers of Delphi and Adyton who reopen it with the power of their God, who was accumulating access to an infinite where nothing isolates it, not even from the sip of a sea that does not grant the gift of quenched thirst, then the Psiloi custodians as advisers of their "V" of the pentagram would take charge of the Oracle's minions to unite the center of the Kosmous with the Universe-Duoverse where he rested on the niche of Hestia.

Apollo emerges between some proxenos that accompanied him before noticing the impact of the Arrowheads, and compasses between proxenos that would admit the New Duoverse of the Oracle of Adyton, for a new universe that was gestating from a polymer towards a multidimensional height that rotated to exhibit only the edge that would admit the mass of Saetas to create rings of vibration, and frequency of Apollo in front of Vernarth looking from the magnanimous lookouts of all Greece. This is where the shepherd Coretas juxtaposed himself with his flock to swarm in the thin strips of landslides that would be left by the atomic detonations of both colliding Arrows, whose cracks would drop obtuse crude oil down mysterious empty cliffs in the face of a Greece that would be born before Anthropotite or humanity, only eclipsing Vernarth in the company of the atomic hatching in the middle of the sieve of the same faces of his entourage that will make him return every day of his transition, like fiery Ashin of the Roman Vestal in assiduity of Naples.
Apollo indicates to Vernarth: “If you stay alone in the drift of Astro Cirrus, you stay with the shadow of Coronis, or you will tell me that it dissipates from the discharges of Tarquino Prisco, you must treasure your Trilogy as a pendulum on the towpath of the Dodona or from the hiding places of the fetish between leaves of the inventory that unknown is not by an auspice that will open from the greatest Paradise ”

In advance of the hallmarks of the Itheoi Duoverse; with the Pre-Kelesete or Possession, they decide to contribute the Anticipatory that will open the doors of the Soul that they have to enter the Universe of San Juan Apóstol, from then on a whopping bump are unleashed with the hatching of Saetas between Zefian and Apollo. The Cabal skirmish was accomplished in the dark! The macro transport of spiritual masses begin to coexist transporting the end of the Himation Ceremonial, later until an impartial right here appeared from Camphor, it was his signature Macrowave protoform of the Himation itself; called Camphor-Xórki (syllabus). The Pre-Kalesete began its walk through the Nothing when Vernarth tried to look down on the limpid spheres of Patmos seeing the holistic whole involved in a Greece that was hailed from the Hatching Arrows coming from the last breath near the Camphor-Xórki of San Juan Apóstol where the Xorkí began to syllable “O θάνατός σου είναι τώρα Ζωή – Your Death is now Life”, from the Quantum atomic that began spelling out by Vernarth's Stóma; or beginning of his astonishing mouth that was regurgitating the oscillating lapses between the Keselete and Xorkí.

With expeditious speed came the Arrows of the Phlegrean Fields, forking one by one until the Fourth Sagittal that was isolated in the evolution of myriads of stars that were made up of the proximity of the Nimbus where Vernarth provided himself in decades of nebula Celestines that shone to tear pimps fibers that still aspired to hijack the remains of the Millitum Vernarth, in the form of clusters of radio galaxies that moved towards the reddish, expanding from the Campos Phlegraios in Naples itself; like geological hydrothermal fissures that clustered behind a sudden crimson blue of the great Universal that split receiving the Saeta Prima from said field of fire. The gravitational completion of the curve generated the Saeta Prima that was made conventional with assistant telescopes, before exultant excesses of wanting to see it as a Quasar that descended from Andromeda together with the Auriga, in such a radio galaxy journey to melt the bars of the Universe to be distended by Vernarth's bombastic Stóma that expressed itself more than his dwarfed senses by the Galaxy that was propelled by the waning of the radiance of the Quasars.

The Primal Saeta is abducted in the intermediate vortex of the Quasars, it remains in the orbit of the Nimbus where Vernarth remained in photometric that allowed him to reflect it in its silhouette with the closest astral referent of Orion. The Secunda Saeta came out of the transversal valleys, this came with the agreement of the Pre-Keselete of Saint John the Apostle bathed in ultra-luminous infrared Ouranos, making vibrating strings of the frequency of the Universe in an ultra-luminous dream emanating from molecular gas, adapting to the new fusion of Zefian's Prima and Secunda Saeta with the determination to split the monoxide at the base of the Nimbus from the acroteria that still accompanied it with the universal entity of the Empyrean as hydrogen that formulated the Saetas clash in homologation of the same aerodynamics prop of the Xiphos, from solid metal to liquid in pearly spirals from the magnitude collapse of the Tercia Saeta, this would bring the same from the Horkun hydrothermal or Horcondising Mountain with thousandths of a thousand light years that would unify on their Solid and Liquid pedestals as the Fifth Essence of the Horkun, the Third Bolt arrived between five Kyrios who followed her through the atrium that was beyond the Hydor that incarnated in collusion with her deformation to soon reform, beginning to go towards the manifest of shared energy towards magnitudes divided by the coefficient 0.7 Micron of atomic energy levitating from the quasar equivalent that stretched from the luminous zenithal meridian in front of the mast of the Four Leaf Clover, which pretended to be a Cherub still emanating from nothing, towards the fractal splendor of the Patmos region ten times greater than the hydrothermal that reconfigured Greece at a distance of ten molecular cycles minus a molecular trace of the carbonate crystal. The diameters of the absolute observable were coming out to the delight of a Hellenic Ego observable in the wide Cosmos rendered in anti-gravity of the Fourth Arrow; being competent to see how he appropriated a snowy-blue sky that softened with the obstructed eyes of Saint John the Apostle, granting more than ninety percent of the explosiveness of the Quarta Saeta above the infrared that dominated the collisions, leaving them inactive for only seven seconds before concluding the snowy waves with the dense and glacial gas helically topped by few waves of any gas that sprout from each galaxy that never ended as an isolated Nimbus as Kant preceded, in a time that becomes more extensive than our own light that lives in its bright end. The dislocated morphology of the Fourth Saeta would ignite the border of the Pre-Keselete from the Phlegrean Fields, Kimolos, the Horkun, and Patmos in an unleashed spiral since the matter was uncontrolled from other unknown matter between myriads of collisions caused by Zefian to the limit that cuts his inspiration, only falling asleep all the previously mentioned Duoverse with Vernath's Megaronic Odes in Epilogue of Xorkí, from here towards the metallic lithic tip of the Xiphos with its spelled enchantment.

Megaronic Odes

"You see from the Enchantment in which all matter becomes Free, You see how each one of them after being Four will now be one that speaks of their very existence that you do everything... you realize that the noise of the Duoverse is born from the Xorkí, where everything dark turns grey... and black is Xorkí.

“Everything that has four digits moves with your four wings, everything that you call Quarta Saeta is a Xorkí syllable…”
Camphor is the heat of friction of the contracted memory, it is here that all pain that is in this field of tragedy urges it, and leaves you distrustful of sap that is another that you lead to the Pre-Keselete as an environment of infernal turns that seem to be good of a good that is born to crash fatally. I want to tell you with these Megaronic Odes that I write, which do not belong to me, they are concise clashes of two atomic ignition fields of the Keselete and Xorkí of San Juan Apóstol that make me not mortified, that you will destine me to the gross speed of the blinking of my Hellenes eyes quicker than those of enchanted thought.

“I need to tell you that between La Prima and Quarta Saeta, my charms between frictions will rest on herbs from Corinto and Sudpichi, I will join the choir that will begin to rise for me, it will do so for you who have just begun to know me, soon we will see you, my dear Adelfos"

"As for the Primal and Quarta Saeta, it is the fanfare of a being that would visit every night, it would invite you to live your own experience that was seen to shine for the last time while being handcuffed to an agro bush, which would sustain itself against an enchantment of the Xorkí in a revived future of the brand new Vernarth with his prodded and resonant Xiphos”

Vernarth utters: “Eurydice... here I am, a closed pilgrimage looms towards the dim light with the nocturnal phrase of him endowing me through the conclusive!! Father... Mother, Myloi of the Sad Wind, here I am with your Primordial Arrow endorsing Pillows, beloved Adelfós, the Rabih San Juan? Almighty God bless you from this Quilt holding our spirited hope of seeing you again! "

Between The Prima and Quarta Saeta, enormous hydrothermal plasmas of the drained Don would be cited, which would conglomerate between the interdimensional of the four Saetas, to later send them from the "Heroon Hurkun Funeral Home of Kanthillana", from there to Lefkandi for the transition of his cremated body that began to revive from there ipso facto, later from the Phlegrean Fields with the Fourth Arrow that Zefian would finally bring with the III Trilogy of Vernarth Hellenic being transferred from the iron prop, supremely seconded by settling in the Prophytis Ilias to revive in autonomous descent of the body of a “Hero in his Heroon who will be reborn from his immolated body”. Incontinently, the arrows will be spaced through the interdimensional strapping of all of Greece to revive its awakening just as it happened with Erestles in Messolonghi; but this time of Orion's Wagon breaking with its coined bar eternity in its Hurkun chamber. In this way, Vernarth is distracted by looking at him at three hundred and sixty degrees looking at the Prima, and from this Secunda Saeta seeing how he rose and accelerated his trajectory adjacent to the Tercia and Quarta that would take him towards a failed break over Thyatira; with the Son of Yahweh, who has eyes like a flame of fire or Aish, and feet similar to going burnishing the bronze chaff towards Patmos to revive immediately with the subrogation of his body in the company of the almighty Mashiaj, Saint John the Apostle and the granted Right of the Hexagonal Birth, with the posterity of prosapies remaining everlasting to resurrect him from the neophyte and Hellenic Hortus Heliacus.
Quantum & Alchemy  https://www.academia.edu/105786699/Hortus_Heliacus_Hellenic
RosesAndAngels Mar 2015
When nights array, shines past the window pane,
I sit and wait for the midnight rain.
Before the shower begins, I fall into deep comatose,
Falling and flying into the dark and watch the night, my soul to diagnose.
Deep within the psyche of me, I find a door,
I have reached my center, the very entrance to my core.
I am curious to look inside myself, to see the bad and the good,
To open up, to all I have misunderstood.
It opens to my touch and inside the sent of roses pierces me.
A garden overgrown with worry.
I enter and frown at all the weeds I've let in,
I have kept it all deep within.
Tears fall down as I cry the words I never said,
I scream the thoughts I kept inside my head.
All my pain comes out upon the dirt under my feet,
All the lies and sadness, so bittersweet.
I finally end without a word to be spoken,
All the bad memories now shattered and broken.
I look to the door and think of the things I've always had.
My family and friends, my home and my bed, through the good and the bad.
Slowly all the weeds of worry, the thistle of lies all vanished,
All the dark and violence banished.
I watch the roses grow, lilies bloom,
I smell the lavenders sweet perfume.
I wander to the nearest tree to climb and find some words in it's bark.
"Hortus autem Mea Mens." the word send me smiling away the dark.
If these words have affected you, then there is hope still left for humankind.
The night is long but i can wait, in the garden of my mind.
They stood within,
The garden of old
Forgotten to time;
Left to unfold
The lily-bush bidden,
To grow wayward free
Birds of paradise dance,
With no eyes to see.
Universe Poems Jan 2022
A garden is there for you
Inside out
Nurture it and, it will,
see you through
Sunshine,
holding you tight,
enjoying starry nights
Rain,
a trickle down your spine,
no pain
Frost, snow,
enjoying the cold though
Shiver quick,
back inside,
for a hot chocolate kick

© 2022 Carol Natasha Diviney
Johnny Noiπ Sep 2018
They that are in the unoccupied *****
that he walked into              w/ the pen
of the writer to make it of various
swarms of flies of divers kinds,
but they have great enthusiasm
for the image,      looking for a **** French
woman from the tomb; Because of the heat
of the day but now as far as 1 p.m.,
I will remember you in all the sails
                   subject to strict control,
which for example, heat is the cause,
& it is with him the slam of Spring;
Food at this time has no teeth,
while the weak loves Pepper &
danced in the emotion leading to the
daughter of the radio waves used
in the folk feast celebrations; Thanks
to the side deal, the fear caused us
the injuries of a single year; The
Body of hope is left in the garden;
After that, he will with his skin
shall kiss her & he & the tenant
has a great bottom & tight, wet *****
& he walked into the vacancy;
& the pen of the scribes is in the
land of the swarms of flies who have
the vehement images of **** French
women looking on from the tomb;
for in the heat of the day at the moment
until as long as 1 a.m. remembering
you in all things; the sails are subject
to a strict system of control,     which
is the reason for the heat & with it the
slam of a true food in a time that has no teeth,
but little strength in love with a piper who
danced in the emotions leading to the
daughter of the radio waves used in folk feast
celebrations;      Thanks to God, he would lay
aside the fear of any injury for one year; we
expect to leave the paradise of the holy body
& skin him while kissing him holding her bottom

ut in uacuo uageretur *****
& ille ambulavit, & per calamum
hoc autem plus quam scribarum
& variis muscis diversi generis,
Nec studio ad imaginem vultus
parum pudici Francorum mulier
monumentum propter calorem diei,
Sed quatenus I a.m.,  Ego memores
sumus vestri in omnibus celeriter
vela subduci stricte imperium ratio,
quae exempli gratia,    calidum, est
causa, estque secum slam fontis;
cibi tempus in hac antecedit nullos
habet, dum infirma diligit piperis
inducit motus saltasset filia radio
fluctus uti celebratur festum in
populo;  gratias fac nos partem
terror iniuriam unius anni corporis
relinquitur spes hortus:     Post ***
vult et cutis et osculatus fuero, ipse
est, & tenens imo habeat magnum

In the unoccupied lands of *****
The walk through the pen;
This is more than the write
   and a variety of dog-flies of divers kinds,
Nor is it the image of the face of the study
to the **** French woman in the tomb,
on account of the heat of the day,
But as far as 1 P.M., I remember
We are quickly in all of you, salt
strict control system for example,
   Heat is the cause of the Lord & with him
is the slam of the fountain;       Food at this
time has no idea as long as the weak things
of Pepper's daughter's dance movement
        of Love on the radio is celebrating
the feast; In the use of the waves of people,
       We thank you to party w/ alarm
of the ****** injury of a single hope
of the Year of the Garden left behind
with the skin & he wills that I shall kiss him,                      that is to say,
he who has a great *** & the tenant
who has the bottom of a young girl

        In the unoccupied lands of *****,
There is a walk for the sake of order
that is a pen;  More than writing this
& a variety of different kinds of flies;
nor is the image of the face of the study
& a **** French woman is in her grave
   because of the heat on that one day
                                              at 1 p.m.
extent but she does not remember;
We are in a short time one of you all: salt,
for example, strict control systems;
The reason is that even when the heat
slams off the spring;      The food at this time
does not have the peculiarity that they which
when they that love of the weak peppers
and a daughter's dancing emotional feast
is celebrated on the radio in practice,
however, people wave; we thank you
for the alarm hope of the year injury
of a single body; he wishes to & I am
leaving the garden,    kissing the skin,
that is to say of that one tenant:
she has a great *** for a child;
after all, she is a girl at bottom
emilie Aug 14
I
Humanitas

The hortus conclusus, the refuge, orderly whole of the cosmos,
Here we stand, utterly devoid of internal order.
For all things that are, the effects of chaos we harbor.
We yearn for quiet, yet we live to govern or punish.
Reminding us of our own mortality, where powerlessness leaves her blemish.

The universe has gracefully granted us the senses to experience all of her glory.
Fear has, however held them tightly in her grasp and sharpened the sword with which she bullies.
She blinds us, chokes us, finds herself coursing through our veins whilst having us firmly stuck wherever she has struck before we even realize we are no longer the same.

At this moment, Venus appears before us bearing a rose.
Looking through our soul, waiting for when around the stems our hands close,
Thorns of the sharpest kind rip into our flesh, blood seemingly draining the flower’s color.
The petals succumb to the diseased darkness that seeps through us,
Slowly wilting away into a sea of nothingness to which we surrender; her poison of love.

The sea of scorn slowly envelops our limbs announcing its presence,
The color of nothingness turns to a violent violet void.
We try to fight her, but she had won before it even started; we had met Guilt’s very essence.
Her presence deeply imbedded within us, there might be only one way out.

This way out was to go further in, deeper than ever before,
We sink to the bottom, somehow making it to the top.
Surrounding us, a plane of metamorphosing grief salivating at the idea of consuming more.
A new kind of darkness this time, only through the nucleus of danger could it develop.

II
Fulminare

We had never felt such a transformative, disturbing aura,
And amidst the obscurity of these planes stands a beam of light: courage.
A stoic figure remains, drawing and reflecting the moon’s light as a beacon might.
The statuesque Fortitude resisting a languishing Paranoia.

Overcome by power we couldn’t understand,
We seek refuge by its feet, contemplating the meanings of what we see.
Darkness slowly consuming us, Light begging us to follow her command.
Just as we begin to feel, it seems we have already given up.
The shadows have decided what we’ll be, slipping away, we fall in too deep.
An escape from the Light and her cardinal virtue, how could we possibly disagree?

Yet again we find ourselves aimlessly traveling the planes.
This time, something has shattered inside of us,
A primal force that caves the chest in.
Anger has manifested herself, ever so appealing and treasonous.

Looking down upon the burnt remains of our chest,
Feeling as though we are harboring an unknown life form.
She had found her place, and had been waiting a while she confessed.
We look up to the stars as the threat of her presence vibrates throughout, whispering transform.
Wonder, loneliness, uncertainty, loss and despair take over.

As once again, we exist aimlessly, far from where we started but nowhere closer to our unknown purpose.
This voyage is endless, what could transform mean?
For this journey has now transcended spaces and time.
Taking over our mind are scenes of roses, seas, statues, monsters and the unseen.
Putting an end to this would be sublime.

III
Benedicere

As we take our next step, the ground below disappears,
Our vessel being subjected to the effects of gravity drawing us into nothingness.
Right before letting go, a spark finds her way to reveal something we had built for years.
She transformed herself into a flight of stairs.
Disappointed and weak, we tried one last time to climb,
Traveling through realms of body, mind and soul: time.

Still blinded by Fear, we sense connection,
A tower appearing before our fragile eyes.
The stairs continue, circling the mausoleum of liberation.
Hope granting us clarity and perception through clouds of false illusions.

Light had returned, otherwise though,
Softer and far more possessive than ever before.
Shades of vermilion, mauve, coral and the slight hue of azure now unveiling.
Darkness evaporating as dawn gave us something to hope for.
Night was, however, still lingering,
Reminding us of her never-ending presence within.


The cavity in my chest vibrating, entire pieces of me migrating.
A white orb this time, mending the previously damaged vessel, now body.
The complete absence of color in its purest state.
I was ripped from where I had stood calmly,
It guided me through time and space, showering me in tranquility, lifting years of weight off my spirit.

Glancing around I see stone walls;
Destroyed ramparts, ruins covered by ivy, others standing strong.
This place, lush and green has somehow beaten the chaos; survived it all.

I was in a garden, was it mine? Paranoid
Was this what I was running from, what I was trying to avoid?

Floating before me, the orb lowers to the ground and takes on a recognizable form.
She hands me a cosmo of scarlet petals and beckons me to follow.
Now I know, this is where I belong, we were home all along.

— The End —