supposedly, and as we're told, it has been a man between moše and aron, if that is correct, who spoke with one directly, as a friend, but has been sneaking into the dreams of the other, as a thief.
Although the first one passed away, again supposedly, when he wrote the last letter of what he's been told, directly and supposedly, again, by the extortion or by exhaustion of ink, if that even existed, but his memory became intrinsically more prevalent, and moved outside the reach of human heart, as obligatory function above any reason + while the other, no matter how deep in his heart has been endowed with the nine, ten, or twelve severe wounds that were shared, three times each, as in a game of a special occasion, and used to build up a human imprint, although only told and less written about it.
And that part existed before the first mens writing has finished, and thus that man died as of a miracle as that was supposedly held back then, and when the writing has been reawaken again, with a purpose.
Dust is, about Dust, in the Dust
Some fragments, for example, were still on the parchment in the hands of the famously notorious Toth, the inscriber of all time, and before his departure, which wasn't even recorded, but they desecrated the rest for a sacrifice that was needed, to burn the facts and covert through its act, although not confirmed that ever performed or occured..
it's a shady business, a side kick, and a tome of study related to just these outstanding miracles, or circumstantial truths which are undeniable, but untrue or incomplete.
Lots of suffering can be found inside, if one onboards on the journey to find a way, if even possible, trhough a very narrow corridor, and maybe up, unknown of direction, but among the bloody thorns a beauty of undivisible capacities appears as from some other, completely other world… and in the process, some parts of human obligatory wisdom need to be left behind as they start to feel as a very heavy burden causing an extreme acts of sinful tragedies and no matter how extremely sorry one can become, it isn't enough before the actual human consistence isn't relieved of its ownership ..
I am unsure, actually, of what am I writing, but it is about dust, that is, among the dust, and the spectres, that are, among the spectres, and of a formula that is undeniable, burned into the flesh of the heart and painful, indeed, I dunno. Maybe incorrect?
It is, but a fable.
you're right. need to wipe this out fully. i think they're following me 🙂 🙂 no no, just the sun and its rays 🙂