Look in awe upon this scene of pure beauty - unreal, it seems, as the flood of holy sensations and notes of kindly voices of forms beyond our easy recognition - all of the loving touches upon our inner most selves are, indeed from another realm of our world. With the lights of this holy season sparkling, as we do, in this sacred interlude of pre-dawn - oh how precious is this landscape, already magical, but now with singing and horns and strings touching our hearts - each vessel that is now converging with a bounty of souls full of promise - oh loves, such a breakwater this Christmas surely is…
A most spiritual time is Christmastide, with the elsprights in a full ethereal chorus of notes on the Eve of the birth of our Savior. Ever and again is the vital need for emergence of the elstate in all of it’s appearances, however fleeting - all the more magical and precious for the starkness of it’s instrinsic brevity in counterbalancing contrast to the eternal continuity of the opposing of the base.
As the watercraft skim and plough through the waves, adding spray and splash to the mist rising off the sea, the everyday routine is wholly transformed, launching apparitions into the ether just as as the travelers are launched upon the shores.
Already a mixing place of life across many aspects, as the purposes and bounds vary across the range of humanity embarking upon the great city, together compressed into the quaint isle stepping stone.
But today, in this most special morning on the eve on the most special morning of Christmas, the aspects swirling in of dimensions beyond comprehension - even the most duty bound and closest to the ground in their straight line dedication to their understanding norm, even they feel the feelings that can’t missed, of deepest remembrance, so vast and primeval and ancient as to through them off their intense devoted course.
Tis one of those moments in the sphere of happenings where all boundaries are crossed, where all paths weave together - each of us must surely feel it, each in our own separate way - this height of the Christmas pause is at hand - look at each of us, each disparate spirit in an infinite collage of forms - and awesome are the voices that are now sharing in chorus…
On this particular Christmas Eve morn, all are touched by these notes of elevated spirits that are being woven - the ethereal spiders are up with the sunrise, darting and weaving, lovingly stinging in a purely holy invasion of all souls - but to be sure, the depth of their welcome varies with the entirety of range of readiness of the elspright in each and every living form.
A wondrous march of faeries arriving upon this doorstep to the vast metropolis - a wonder more how many sense the true expanse of Ghosts launching deepest notes of inner voices in a collective Carol as this Eve of Christmas commences…
In the lovely vale that is the subject of our tale, one especially targeted by the masters for it’s critical nexus of threat and opportunity - and therefore impact upon the urgent need of this age at the brink - a marvelous assembly of equally lovely souls have already been joined - mated in the truest sense of extreme oneness of knowing - as one they are in awe that is unfolding before them.
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