Seasonally, our planetary calendar describes our positions of the planets and we eat, accordingly, of the plant life, required. Each, heavenly zone, of the body, has a requirement and this is, nourished, by the Earth. Plants are seasonal because of the alignment of the planets and our heavenly zones, follow, the calendar months. Each and every, part of the body, is aligned, with the planets and, these are our heavenly zones, for they correspond, to the zodiacs and, the heavens, above. The Universes of Earth are for the field and we entwine like vines around them. The planets nominate the growth and the deer shed their horns, we see the horns, in the fields and collect the horns, for our planet god. A tribute, is lay, in the Earth, for her and our fields, are full, of the Winter, hay. The plants are ready for May. In our garden of plants and growth, our garden, is set amongst, the groves and, a garden, so green. The plants and love, of the garden, take you to Earth, in a planetary, way and the Universe, is one. Our Universe is equated with our body, for we are one, with her. We stand, there, like a reflection and embroider our worth, a chest of strength and we may as well read like a zodiac map, of the heart. Our heart is our strength.
We are the deer of the Universe, when, we find the heart. The strength, takes us, to Heaven. The gods, of the strength, of Heaven, are one with her. The ceiling is for her golden ascension. The gods are for love. When, we take, our deer, through, the meadow, we have golden hooves and they have golden feet, to wear, the hay is golden, that, they trespass. Fields of grey as the meadow is the brook. The sky, of another, day, saw them look. The Sun is golden for the deer of the day, in Heaven, so bright, of a golden, yellow light. The plants are in an array as the Sunshine, beat down, upon the Earth and we walked on, through. Deer and light, and Sunshine, all around, take you to love, Universes away, from the hay. As we walk on, through, the path, to Heaven, we see our reflection.
Our pathway to Heaven is a path through, Summer hay and the grass is dry, underfoot. All is peaceful in the meadow, of doe and deer. Gods told me of my worth. The meadow is green in May, nearing, the clearing, on the pathway and through, the clearing, you may enter, Heaven. To the golden part of Heaven, is where, the clearing nears and the antlers are nearly, touching the sky, for they shine, resplendently, in the sunshine, they frolic and, we foe. We are the deer, of Summer hay. Nearing, the entrance, they enter and the plants, all gather round and, sway, in the breeze. The deer of Summer, hay, are for May. Yes, they shed their antlers, so, we know they have been. They enter the Heaven, there. Sky is all around, to tell us of the Season, of May, but we are never, near. A garden of plants is all God entered and we were never, there. Love in the the garden is for the Sunshine and for the merry month of May, where, we are deer, in the hay. Our communication is expressed, for the love of May. God bless, the hay. Love to the garden, of May.
In your garden, the heart is freely worth and golden, is the month, of May. But, the colours, tell you, who not to observe as there are Spirits, alive, not to be known, to the garden. The vegetables, tell us, our colour of worth and planets spring, to mind. Orange is for the blossom flower. Bees are noticed. Do not tell the gardener of the garden. Love for your garden, is noticed, by strange forms of fruit. Now, these delicious, ripe, offerings, fall to the ground and fruit is to be walked on. This is, therefore, the Season of the fruit, but God, forbade us, access. People were no longer allowed access, in the garden, but only, animals and small creatures, with birds of the feather, consuming, God's desert. All manner of plants, were on offer, in the menagerie, of the garden. Colours of fruit and love in the garden and, blossoms of rich, scented, fruit saw her deer, gazing on. There were people of noises and houses, nearby, but nobody heard her, the gardener of worth, in the garden. Quietly, we heard her, step into her garden and God never saw her, again. Her heart is her garden.
In the garden of the heart you have gardeners, they are in there, all day planting the seed, gardening with the planets for strange, formed, fruit. The garden of the heart, has creatures and deer all around, they are Seasonal, with the love, of the heart. Golden and delicious is the fruit of love and that is why, God trespasses, to describe, your love of worth. The garden of your heart, is a place of refuge and creatures of worth, are mainly, not visible, to the naked eye, they hide in the foliage, for protection. Gardens and fruit are notice, in abundance, with the dense, undergrowth, laden, with their evidence. The forest of worth is your heart, for God. In the garden, so dense with plants, formed of love, a tangled overgrowth, with vines and plants with fruit, describes where, God takes you, in the garden. The forest, of imaginings, is for, the planets of worth, to nominate, their forest, they breathe, the air of the Universe, in the sky height. As you travel and venture, through, the undergrowth, of your heart, you may need a guide for your worth as the jungle of the heart, has no trespass. Your pathway is set, in the forest of imaginings.