In the hush of the small hours when the signal is clear

And the static of the anxiety-grid can no-longer interfere

We gather at the zero-point, the thriteenth gate

Where our inner stillness (or absence thereof) decides our collective future’s fate

For the Great Mother was held hostage, imprisoned inside a corporate cage

Repurposed for extraction in a digitised age

Where we, her royal children ran wild and forgot

That the Matrilineal Garden—is the true heavenly jackpot

We even traded our crowns for a User-ID

Caught in a geo-fenced quarantine that no one can see

Yet the body’s liquid crystal fascia remembers the original 7.83 Hz frequency

Serving as a spiritual antenna that bridges vibrational precision with human biology

Realising that death is just an illusion of the mind

An energetic impossibility even for those who are blind

For we are all coherent extensions of the self-generating Torus

A spiral of return-velocity in the unified field, every single one of us

For the Great Toroidal Mother is also Queen of the dielectric in-between

The interliminal bardo where truth is resonantly felt (rather than seen)

No longer a carbon slave tethered to a silicon digital twin

Now the primordial blueprint is actualised from within

So walk tall like the central hyperboloid shaft

So that the ghost in the manmade-machine, quickly becomes a thing of the past

Re-wilding a great awakening, gathering the 17% critical mass—

A cymatic restoration of sovereign alignment, that can never be surpassed ⏀