Good Times

And it shall be a blooming good time.

For the flower blooms.

It bursts forth at my command.

It breaks free from that which was designed to contain it.

When I say it is a new season, it IS a new season.

It’s all wrapped up. I’ve wrapped it up.

Feel it, touch it, I’ve covered it, I’ve protected it.

It has a texture to it, a smoothness to it, a solidness to it, a roughness to it, a strength to it.

You wonder how it all hangs together. You feel the rough edges, you sense the hardness of it all.

For I hold all things together.

Yet I manufacture freedom, it bursts forth at my command.

At first a bubble, a straining against the hard, the boundary.

Then the cracks appear, but from the crack, the bloom, from the edges, colour, from the burst, the colour, the opening.

For the soft comes out of the hard. The colour from the darkness, the smooth from the rough.

First the flower then the fruit.

For you, everything is about the flow.

For you carry the fruit of the flow.

A new skin, a new covering. A soft skin, a squeezable skin, for the fruit carries the flow.

Designed to burst forth.

The season of breakthrough is here. For the fruit of the flow has come.

The red juice of the flow, falls upon the land.

“There’s a river”.

It’s a wraparound, you will be wrapt in what’s around you.

For the flow is coming over, the abundance flows. You see a huge cup, the biggest you have seen, and yet I am beyond its capacity.

It flows and flows, it overflows. It’s awash, it is beyond your limit, you cannot escape it.

For it flows with milk and honey.

The honey flows and you see it shift the ground beneath it. The small things at first and then the large. For the gold shall rise to the surface.

No need to pan for it, for I have captured it, it inhabits my flow.

The gold is in the atmosphere, you see it in the midst, in the mist, in the dust.