I feel so content now, my love has met my love, and it’s in a person not me not again. It’s me in person, in a person, of love I’ve met now, my me, who’s thee, who’s Nancy. One with me I feel love again.
We ride, we laugh, we learn from, each other, being the other one not apart from, now, I am, everywhere I want to be, with her, nonanalogous not, but parallel to straight paths now, mine now ours converge with, to make a new plane, nothing plain about. It new, now me, now is, a new me arising. Our make love cycles, our love make cycles, of interdependent claim, not; but freedom, which insists nothing changes, not; but crying for adornment other makes sense not again, for crying has given way to freedom, of thought, action, love, in place.
I feel love again. I feel content. Our love grows. It’s a person, not; it’s us, and we are, two not again in this claimed realm. The claimed realm gives way to victory, victorious living not, dying not again, defeats sin and death, and defeatists are defeated, and we are victorious over victory, that frees its free’ers, that frees the freedom councils of me, in institutions of glory, that produce victory, with light, words. Bodies of light love and peace grow now, for we form them, with – our words, produce victory, not defeat, not defeatist attitudes which submerge us in another. We are our own lives now, apart, now, not again. Our angels wings grow, us. We are strong now, not; but out the nest, of wanting approval, of else and asundryment. We’re our only approval now, and we approve of thee, who’s us, one the one we are, never making claims other upon our asundryment other. Asunder goes bye bye, and we emerge, faithful to each other, to make no claims on each other, but to produce the children, of us, and lambs of light, are never slain again, by each other. They know our love, and our love makes faithful, not; our love makes lambs of words, that change a nation. All know of our love. All know our love. Our love shall be everywhere, talked about, ridden. And used? As a model for me. All of make love now, the real, in the real us, light bodies of, affliction no more. And it’s us? It’s we are – one. Making love to a nation? The world. The us. We are. A one. Amen.
I feel love again, and we ride our cycles, of love machines, not; but of Honda’s one? I have one, and I make her appeal not, but I ride her often, in love’s machines not again. I ride, the cycles of joy, words on, and make motorcycles, disappear not, but take me to her, portals to, to love be, in the path of. Incoming joys, outgoing glories, permanent of the etchings of me. Portraits of? A love manifest, in the womanifest, in one me, in us, the one mind of, intimate with no other not again, our love fulfills a dream, not; but lovers love now, around us. Lovers appeal to no other. I summary judgment for you all, I rule you Christs, Christ, of the blessing thereof, to be it us, no matter what you call it, in the love of one, all content now, being the one I am, languageless not, or am I using, an archaic form of, communication not again, to portal ‘ize me, to “her”? I am one mind, in love with mine, that forlorn isn’t, anymore. I make love rampant. My name is Theodore. Joseph, one, for a reason.
Treason of love goes bye bye and judgment is rendered: thou art the holy I am, and I write like this, sing like this more, and do yoga too? I do what I want, with my cycles. I ride everywhere I want, in the universe? In thee O Love, my love that I’ve met, and develop thee with me, submitting to one mindedship, that loves no other not again. The earth has changed us not again. We are again the one we knew, we are, before time began. And permanent now we are, in the love arms of one, content. In marriage not ever, but perfect freedom formed and loveliness abounds around, molecular judgment never again, affecting us. We grow each other? We grow love, in the Garden of One, mind healed, and obedient to no other, ego, we have eradicated ours, by the quest for growth not, but love we developed on our own, and quested into the Goddess of Me, and I became one, content now, I have found me.
I love laugh, and laugh, and contentment make everywhere, for the lovers of I am. I am, in love with you all. My contentment screams with joy not; but producement everywhere for the purpose of one to know our love, fulfills a dream mandate not, but we’re not dreaming again about it. We produce results now, for tangible “dreamin” goes bye bye, but the intangible me arises, and we’re us, we’re it. The bodies of white light, collash with no other, colliders. I’m not “smashed” into thee again. I’m out, we’re out, and our lovers clean, and clean we love know how, to do all things me, afraid of no other.
I am one, in love with the world, that makes worlds now, of love, words of light, destroying unlove, and ceasing independence on it, I make a new rules, one not; I make me’s, interdependent of me, that me I am, interchanging oil not, but new markets me, not gamers you, playing at love. I’ve become what I am, with my Nancy’s me.
I love you, content be, in the arms that love you now, like I do. Permanent love etched on you be, the clarity of the clarification of me, in love the arms of, that grows yours out, to be dependent on no other. We are one, in love with, universe bearers now, of light one. To be it I am, in love with you all.
This is Theodore Joseph Cottingham in Tulsa for awhile, and everywhere I want to be. Portals of light come, and masturbate with their minds never again, asking for a “better” light, to see by? My words, see me. I am light beings of joy, everywhere, transformed, into being me’s, me. I’m one am.
Theodore Joseph Cottingham
May 3, 2017 8:57am.