Once this electrifying amplitude of all-in-one energy courses and circulates freely, the organic impulse is to ravage and consume itself in all outward form, like a serpent with ever-widening jaw and far-reaching tongue and tail. The consummation and assimilation is of all parts back into the wholeness out of which each holographic particle of it emerged and into which each particle of it is resorbed. Urged by the natural hunger to power limitlessly through space at an amplified, accelerated rate, all bodily systems align to perform one congruent function: the symphonic motion to source as source. We move to devour until all there is left is at rest. At rest is the one singular field of consciousness-power that is again laid bare for us to interact with in all our tenderised responsivity. The girls in ceremony have bent low from their waists, with undulating abdomens. As the inner longing to surrender to the immensity growing within is unbound—long, dark hair arcs free and sweeps each and every measured composition into one great seething mess. That one-pointed action is unleashed—the act that is at once dissolution, for the generation of preservation—like the serpent itself. Storming energies wash over the diagrammatic constructs. Hair tumbling like waves onto the earth break through the patterns and scatter the grains of pre-conceived form into inconceivable trajectories. Raw elements are surrendered to the winds of change and are redistributed to settle in fresh configurations, without fear-ridden interference. Falling and rolling—broken through socialised etiquette into the expanding field of liberation—are women and men of differing status and age as if intoxicated, exalted and carried on an oceanic certitude of nameless, living perfection. Home is this place—a place that can be anywhere—when the divinised voice is recognised as human oracle, even when habituated thought and speech patterns have bound you to conform to a constrained, veiled reality. I know you knowing me the moment you are breaking free. We are unveiled to stand naked before the other when we are vibrationally attuned to the singular frequency that runs through compounded possibilities. Home is this field ever unified and yet fully exposed in the wake of conscious, generative dissolution. There are now many more places on Earth, where an impregnated chaos is staring us down. No matter how the forefathers of denatured rulerships have enslaved the vulnerable to amass ramparts against the unimpressed powers of nature, these temporal barricades will simply burn up in the nests of accelerated death they have made for us, through us. Reinforced patterns of perversity that act under the governance of "free" radicals—as if they grew a mind of their own fed by cancerous thoughts against their host and other—they too will be broken up, when faced down by an innately ordered chaos bigger and yet bigger than the initial implosion that roused it from the depths of its heavy, serpentine coils of time-defying dormancy. Patterns once burning like mere matchsticks will fuel and colour their multidimensional demise. And what's left will be what's congealed and crystallised like gems in the smouldering of longing to inherit the birthright to do it all over again. And again, until there is only that certitude of oceanic exaltation alive, swimmable and drinkable in and through every form of your formlessness.