How do you put feelings into words
when you feel so deep?
Like an explosion of color—
plumes of hues you cannot transcribe.
Starbursts take shape,
moving through you,
activating dormant sacred geometry.
They are meant for you.
They have been with you since the beginning of time—
because they did not choose you,
for you chose them.
This is the feeling you decided to take on
long ago.
And now the shapes awaken—
spinning, shifting, aligning.
Metatron’s cube hums beneath your skin,
spirals of light weaving into your bones.
A tetrahedron blooms within your chest,
spinning gold into your breath.
Merkabas unfold behind your eyes,
lifting you beyond time.
These patterns are not new—
they are etched into the fabric of you.
A silent language, now remembered,
now spoken through your veins.
You are geometry made flesh,
light given form.
The remembering was always there—
you are only now beginning to hear it.
