Like so many other things, I found Truth amidst that point that exists,between paper and pen.Mental projections impel my hand to exert power upon this vessel of expression.The paper is the Material World,the pen, deftly poised in Saturn’s hand.Like all artists, he waits, for his inspiration to create.For he IS NOTthe Creator.Dyan Chohans, Elohim, Lipi-Ka, Amen Ra,it begins.Music is made when the pen descends. TensionPaper meets Pen.Somewhere, in that Point, I am birthed again.As all writers know, the greatest tales write themselves.Saturn may have some sway, but this is the Creator's play.Sometimes it is over before it has a chance to truly start,other times the pen is too hard on the paper, tearing it apart,most of the time, a conflict exists, the senses desire to prevent the Soul from effectively playing its part.Seduction of glamour affects the Soul by making one assume anothers role.Than there are those who are too afraid to simply take their place on stage.Next you have the ones who decide to take the play in their own personal waynot caring about the countless Souls they take,with them,away.And in this, where is it that I fit?(Act 1, First scene)background scenery( 7 Rays, blinking rapidly, infinite times, all before a second dies.)Kokayi stands, seeing with eyes wide shut, hearing the roar of Nothingness.In his hand a script:*warning, read this and you will cease to exist.*33 years or 33 seconds, what difference does it make, when One decides to finally take a look inside?At the top of the page, three words lay:“Man Know Thyself”This should be easyyethow many exist by living honostly?Beyond this life I have rehearsed those lines,refining my craft working with my faithful and loving companion Time.Comfortable at last, a Solo Man on stage, but oh so far from being alone.Here, I am Home.My voice starts weak, but in slowly rising degrees, it begins to increase.Words become blurs, a lexicon formed that includes Vibrations and Emotional sensations.No vowels or consonants are found, nor any grammatical rules.The foundation for this linguistic creation:Universal Truth, Compassion, and Love,with carefully added synonyms and antonyms provided by the Divine Light that shines down from high above.Civilizations come and go, during the course of my audial flow,and then it ends.The pen no longer descends.This stage of the play is complete.No longer afraid to die,more than willing to give up the “i”.Still speaking truthfully, seeking,moving page 1 and 2 apart, at the top of the page:“The Inner Chambers of the Heart”Yes, the writing of my Life may be already complete,but so far I have only completed the very first scene.The thing is, there is so much that is still yet to be seen.Now seasoned, rehearsal augmented with improvisation,free to use my own artistic variations, always,grounded in Truth.And now, “This” pen will cease to descend, and “this” too will end.ButI too MUST write, so this pen will descend again.Admission to this menagerie, called:“The Life of a Man from the D”The only price that it could ever be:Speaking Truthfully,always for Free.