nagahawkwhen he wakes up he dies. he is then, in one breath re born, same body, same corpse to be; but the holy temple house of god just the same; just the same whether he was asleep or awake.
when he wakes up, greeted by Shakti Devi, is he. She, the mother mary, ye maya or yay maya if i am allowed here to write a joke. she smiles as he cringes at the sight of his head in her hand dripping her crimson ambrosia delight into kapala one drop at a time; yet he sees now it was time to go ‘yond time this final first time. around her neck a mala of his other head trips his other forms of glamour and petty testimony that he was someone, many rounds before–before her black blue pyre ash ridden feet, though he ever was, in all his former forms. when he wakes up he becomes her who is him who is genderless–the void of all divisional illusion hey look the clit became lingam the ovary became your aching lustful blue balls and your tits simply sat on your chest like the monuments that mystify baldhead to this day long after nibiru crashed the party. when he wakes he is shocked into shockti deva stated devastation. when he wakes he becomes doula, midwife mother to many other, at least those who were already writ’ upon his akashic list of chores for this visit. once a throne was cosmically, auspiciously, astrologically thus also politically man-ipulated for i to seat upon for them to seet. a chance for multitude to see loves incarnation to see erect posture true serpent lingam staff but they all just laugh. but still this was success because we both know THERE IS NO GREATER MEDICINE THAN LAUGHTER. oftentimes he wakes and is choosing no palace no roof especially no follower and if he tell you he want follower then you should run to a tree or a cat or an ant because they will have more truth than that fool. when he awakens he often runs out and tells whomever will listen much to his own peril or success of now announcing to the whole village that he is a madman. when he awakens he often delights in telling his women who have come out of curio to hear him declare the story of his serpent bite of venom that became medicine for him and anyone who even reads a single word or even a few who succeed by a touch of his wrap or mala. indeed the women gather to hear how his own self inflicted crucifixion did go—and when he finally musters the words to explain, their brows begin to wrinkle as the women say in unison: “that is it? no shit, our whole being is this way from birth you fool! what you are calling enlightenment, we are knowing as every day sentience! now, return to your chores at once!” now his enlightenment has become that the woman is already enlightened. laughing, he fetches water like never before.