The key of judgement
There are many keys, and ignorance is the key, I know so well. The key of judgement, is the index finger so sworn, a human dwelling keep, I silence fell? If the soul is known, then what keeps the keys silence hidden flown wide, known long, and this universe, cemented to it’s divine song? Yet of ignorance, what of, the soul arrogance, a storm so knowing, loving yet so bright to use all keys, and a wrist tended aloof, to thread all requests to a universe with a single breath in wealth a throne sent?
Yet a soul in patience to wait in ease, what is known, but nothing, but of sorted keys, to experiments try, but nothing garneshed, and all souls, their thrones in light, and others fly.
Yet one key, I know well, it is not of judgement, but of a trial, of one key, tried and attempted foretell, and only one key, I know sorted dwell, but a key not known and all to sell?
Is it a key one finger loft, where others tried, and fought? Is it the soul in yearning for requests to be, or guidance flown, long, in threads of voices, to a resting place flee?
Often a battle hid in ignorance’s flame, what do angel’s know but arrogance and everything in prophecy and past and future, all gifts threaded shame? Yet one, in loft, the gift sworn light, what tears an angel, then judgement, to only sword, I could ever yield, knowing nothing of light, but eyes thread keep, is it a mission a soul sworn deep, to guide for times, and times sworn tell, yet never known, where others positions, a fight in hell?
And often tell, all knowing eases, fought, others dwell, where names eases, are common sought. Yet to fly one angel, in old age fame, lift not fame, thy lips, one name sealed in a book cry soft, and try an experiment, one veil rendered not bought. And often breaches of echoes drills, a call of judgement, is one veil prepared light night?
Or knowing everything a corridor a pedestal show, one finger, mine, and judgement, the swirl I will show? Do I know all, then what guidance flame, is it one step, two feet held blame? Or comfort alone, a prison cement soft?
What are you doing, is this heaven guidance wings, in loft? To summon tides and spheres so old, to show me something of guidance bold? Of wings sworn enemies, in flairs reaped night, this journey is one key, it is judgement of light. I do not know where rests, a judgement sworn tend, are they old wings, or mine angered, in a veil battle send?
If soul knows nothing, then what guidance is light, is it an intricate web, of tolerance to fight, or a battle already won, in years parting fold arrear, yet the soul with nothing, then what guidance two hands others held to a tear? In understanding and knowledge and wisdom, to flesh, not of hurt the grain, then two hands surrendered mercy tended and what is left.
And what is one finger, but thee, sworn tell, is it in sight, an old corpse, driven to feat, all wings, sworn long, in ordinance bells songs, and nothing of shame, of judgement hurt blame, there are other names for this finger, right, I do swear two held tight.
The finger of judgement of the throne to flesh, of birth hence rendered, knowing nothing, but sight burdened in gifts so young.
What is judgement, or soul, or angels in loft?
If you find the tear, it is not human, judgement, all knowing hidden divine I breathe in loft.
And what name do you hide, in youth as clay, but a vision one left, not knowing nothing but the guiding breach, hid as clay obey. And what key do you wish in hindrance forth claim?
A fight in vulnerability, a soul rendered theft, to this day, all arrogance knowing, then wisdom what flame?
You know nothing to seal arrogance a drought so young, and the name held spinning, I have given in instructions obey.
Find the sealing breach each day, in tolerance obey, not patience wings loft, then change as you may, but know nothing as you change, in instructions blind crop I do say, that if nothing burdened sum, then the light in ordinance I shall driven nothing, but the battle by night, and arrive at the meaning, in a change, is it automatic with one name soldered each permission folded obey?
I have given the guiding breach, the guiding bridge, the permissions lend, the guiding teach, and the wings flown duty find. There is nothing needed, in permissions lay, in guidance clay, or anything of others their situations heresay. And so keep oneself shielded in the vulnerability find, the soul will always find meaning, in all ignorance shielded and knowing to others guidance hidden blind.
And nothing of youth, I can soldered to clay, but an old abbot with a finger, in witchcraft, to say, or keys sworn long, and one crop sworn even. It is not the back my dear in a hunch prophecy to clear, but the sight, burdened length, and the tear, I will fold, one finger all keys, to a child, yet one shaped divine, I hear?
The resting place, is it death yet, or one caught in sight shown wide, and an angel a throne, is it judgement truth sworn tide, or tidings sworn even, the throne all hid night, then a vision on angel, it is the guiding breach, sworn tides names fame, or the angels in loft, cemented in fame, teaching lessons, with gifts, then back throne a name?
What a journey one finger dead, in sight as clay, yet not igorance, I uplift, in doubt is it my name, in a drift, I cannot speak to this day? Instructions so kept, to instructions so weep, is it not my angel sworn duty, in wings vessels so steep? Or anger so flown, in permissions light fend, how flight around a vessel, and a pedestal again, the finger won loft, and my guidance I will blame, a tear of danger, or the sight burdened to a fight a throne permission obey, and a clay night hurt a claim?
You can follow my instructions on the path so gleaned, I know nothing but of two hands butchered soldered keep dive, yet one pedestal mine, in another angel of obey, how judgement is a solicitation, and two angels, just pick the book, the name held fingers to clay. The first please loft, to guidance flown wide, and keep it on a device not fingers flown tide.
And so one angel is all, and truth sum fly, but others under a book, can give gifts to one gift at a time in permission try. Yet ordinance is not something a wish true, could give in a fly, but the fifth, is always mercy, to hear the guidance, not others gifts, parting company, the guidance wiped shy?
And so, am I in allowance to try attempt guiding wings see?
I know nothing, but ordinance is not something I shall give, this day, birth a flapping ease night. Just wings in solitude and resting the heart captured tide try. Yet often soul teases, it eases, it tilts, the danger the crop lend, the permission, others they eyes judgement fends?
Then the battle eases, mercy, or flown wiped conclusion tame? Or knowing two eyes, the finger broken to wings tilted shame?
Do not cry loft, in guidance sworn deep, until a throne butchered silence an angels worn tides weep? Yet not of name I do upwing denial truth fend, is it my guidance or yours, in youth trend the birth the throne in hurt a grail fended loft bend?
If this angel is tidings grip, then the sight tip, I have for thee this day, that angel is yours, and others in guiding flame, can not exalt, the battle soul flung tidings weep say, and the cage the throne, the universe, I do heresay, that an abbot in victory, in tidings weep tend, how experiments in loft, do the soul, permission, and the throne hid blind to fend, in loft guidance all to never bend?
Aloof, I hold a tear, in guidance surrender bleak thread, just your guiding angel, the hands soldered weap truth throat weave, and then if vision entwined in permissions guidance flown weak, weave the sight tailored, the and the guiding vision the being awareness blind sail creep, the winds flown fingers, and then the aperature the stolen wings, part company entwined offset gazed haze.
There is nothing of the journey hidden burdened say, just permission one name, the guardian angel, then the fingers aloof held crop, the points two held night, and patience over and over, the fingers crying held soft, the guiding breach, is not a name but a name soft breach held in fame, till the guiding wings, exhale, the vision impeding the name held soft.
Or guidance long, another name hid breach hid clay, I cannot say, what light wills, human patience is frail, all light tilted obey, or guidance one claim to night tilted shop, is it a battle, or amusement, a child governance, and then wielded in slop?
An abbot does slop, work, all wings, chimed young, the finger frozen thought tailored, and permissions, in laughter, knowing nothing to tongue, yet the heel, is a sound, in excitement hid pry, to know the mission next, to a willing eye side look and the robes tilted the corner tilted — was he here? Shapped sigh?