I am not a scholar lost in and fascinated by the Land of my narrow mind;
neither am I a vacant believer hypnotized and indoctrinated by its features and weather.
And I am not asking you to read this and as you do so check to see if I am telling the truth or not, if my facts are straight or not, if my motive is any other than to swank about my knowledge and compete with yours.
For I am not like you. I am a different flower in the human graden we share.
I am not easily fixated on images: they pass me by like bubbles in a stream.
I could never spend millions and years on researching a likeness of Jesus Christ, speculating about medieval forgeries or clandestine Catholic actions or undetected motives.
I cannot make glorified hyped images of fictional gods and deities a priority because I am mesmerised by the living breathing beings who surround me.
I am always in our garden wearing my coat of unconditional Love and tender gloves. There, I cherish living blooms and make the conditions right for flower deaths and the successful release of their true spirits.
I do not live trapped inside mind-time and man-space. Instead, I live eternal, my petals and shiny leaves splendid as intended.
There is no time to kill with pointless speculation and accumulations of word books, and in my form I can travel anywhere in this Eartly paradise.
Our garden is the ultimate for me before I move off to the next magnificent stage of the process of becoming, so I am not looking to drop to my knees and worship anyone except the magnetic members of my race.