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It is January 2025, and I am walking through the sparkling Cosmic tissue, breathing in Light ornaments that release a soft glow, embracing me like never-ending rings

The golden hair of the Cosmos descended through the consciousness of children onto Earth, to whom the Beings of Light of many beautiful dimensions opened

In the Sacred Halls, where the spinning wheels of the Golden Age murmur, the imprints of ancient worlds, the codes of star traditions, the whispering

Like a mysterious legend speaking through the magic of mystery, breathing with the pulse of the Cosmos, a golden robe spreads across the sky. Masters in ceremonial

I curl up beneath a blanket and sink deep into myself, into my womb, where in the very same position as me, curled into a little ball,