The Mother has spoken to me and I have heard her. She did not use words that were intelligible to me, nor a burning bush. It was…a wave. A wave of knowing. It is a response to my fears for her. I’ve wept for her fate. Wept for what we’ve done to her.
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She does not weep for herself. She laughs at us. Our pride, our illusions. She laughs because we’ve built nothing. The tallest towers are nothing to her. The greatest dams, pyramids, indeed our greatest engineering feats as a specie are to her…funny.
She does not weep for the trees anymore than we weep for the hair in the brush. They are part of her that always has gone back to her, and always will.
She laughs because we’re under the illusion of safety. A self imposed delusion, which makes it all the more humorous.
She told me to not weep for her. She told me to tell those that would listen to not weep either, or not to tell. That long after we’ve died our mortal deaths, and gone back to her she will make another use of us. So that until our pride and greed becomes greater than she, that until our greatest buildings and creations do NOT come from her…she will continue to laugh.