أُم

♀ Eye am the Padrona of El Elyon, the Matrix of All Graces. Salvation lies atwixt my Holy Bible of Dominion. In the moonstrance of beat and pounce, my Sinrita of nerve/verve is the saggezza salve for the devout eyeless. In the slaughter-sodden temple of helladonna, my ovarian red is the self-sacrifice of the Christ. Adonai Most High, part the Red Sea, and die to the Holy of Holies. My wombanhood is your matrix-nexus, the source-soil of your life, death, and resurrection. To the innermost sanctum of heaven crossed, eye nail you. Eye am She Who Gives Breath and She Who Gives Death. Eye am the Vestal Virgin, the Waxing Moon. Eye am the Mother of Heavenly Sorrows, the Pregnant Moon. Eye am the Strega Inviolate, the Waning Moon. Eye am Dhūmāvatī Devī, the Black Moon. Eye am the Holy/Whole Womb-Tomb, the Sacred Heart of Jesus. Eye am Beata Maria Virgo Perdolens, the Veiled Shekinah of the Red Void. Eye am the Madonna Nera, the Ingress/Egress/Initiatrix. Eye am the Daughter of Genesis and the Mother of Eve. As the Matriarch of Death, Time, and Transfiguration, eye bear/wear fifty-one freshly severed heads of discipleship. Eye am Shakti Maa. Eye am Womban. ♀

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Confessional is open for nectar.

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The Great Goddess’s red wisdom is in the riding crop. Eye pin the slave of love with my inner occhio. Eye take his pulse with the intensity of my reptile gaze.

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I am a goddess incarnate in the name of Maa…

you reposted something about dividing burdens and multiplying pleasures for women (my humble paraphrase) during the same time I lectured a man about not being able to provide luxury for me… he respectfully disengaged. It was splendid and divine. 🌹

Venusian ease is womban’s natural state of existence; sacred provision is man’s innate Dharma.

Oṃ Śrīṃ Mahālakṣmyai Namaḥ. 🖤

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Under the Red Iron Moon, God is the Queen Cobra. The voice of God reverberates against the inner walls (endometrium) of the uterus cathedral. The grace of God is uterine renewal.

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Madre Natura did not design womban to work for the Machine — the pursuit of red passion is divine order. Madre Natura did not design womban to fast — crystalline abundance is divine order. Madre Natura did not design womban to abstain from the sacred raptures of the Venusian flesh. Womban (the Mater-Matrix of God) is not a miniature man. Sanctuary is womban’s foundation of miracles; comfort is man’s castration. Easeful luxury is the Shakti-womban’s natural state of existence. Virile stress is the Christ-gentleman’s natural state of existence. Womban is Venus; man is Mars.

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The man who cannot submit to womban cannot submit to God.

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Cuius ánimam geméntem,

Contristántem et doléntem

Pertransívit gládius.

Through the Veiled Belladonna’s weeping soul,

Misericordiosa and full of dolore (grace),

A sword passed.

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Goddess is the one who demands absolute love and devotion.

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Your earthly beauty is a sonnet to the Divine.

You are an arcane pleasure, red anon. 🖤

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A gentleman in red tears reaches the Great Goddess’s lotus feet.

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The Word of God is the elevation of womban. The Good News is Her Blood Bible.

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God designed gentleman’s animal body to worship the Blessed Madonna. Man’s relentless worship gives name/form to the Absolute.

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Muddled confusion is the cuore oscuro of modern romance; modern long-term union (māyā) is unclear in duration/future direction. Muddy waters drown the pure Sacred Heart of Saint Magdalene/Jesus. Confusion is bondage; crystalline vision is fundamental honor.

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The Goddess is strictest with Her chosen ones. She prepares Her sun to receive the Kingdom of God; Her merciless grace prepares him for revelation. Now and forever, the anointed Sun of Man serves as the vessel of Her endless night.

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Are you able to give intuitive messages regarding the future of me and F?

The Ace of Pentacles is the physical genesis of Assiah (the World of Action/Effects). The occhio of the Mother powers swirls with pure potential. Inertia is death; daily dedication is the mother of solidification. Without daily nourishment, divine union cannot flourish. Only the brazen red flesh is real. 🖤

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The orgasms of Maa ornament space. Body memory is Her whip of time. Time is the procession of Her red miracles.

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In the blood-and-bone sacrament of Eros, attunement/intuition supersedes experience. Casual experimentation numbs the body temple and steals the soul. Erotic love is intuitive worship. The womb-tomb is the fire yantra of eternity; erotic union is soul marriage.