Forwarded from The General
BREAKING: Iran has unveiled the new “Holy Virgin Mary” metro station in Tehran, decorated with Christian symbols.
@GeneralMCNews
@GeneralMCNews
Forwarded from LauraAboli (Laura Aboli)
Media is too big
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RFK JR:
“The United States Fertility Rate is Dangerously Low and we Know Why — And we are Addressing the Root Causes by Reducing Endocrine Disruptions and exposure to chemicals that decrease fertility”
The average teenager in the US has 50% of the sperm count, and that’s the testosterone level of a 65 year old man. 😱🤦🏻♀️
https://t.me/LauraAbolichannel
“The United States Fertility Rate is Dangerously Low and we Know Why — And we are Addressing the Root Causes by Reducing Endocrine Disruptions and exposure to chemicals that decrease fertility”
The average teenager in the US has 50% of the sperm count, and that’s the testosterone level of a 65 year old man. 😱🤦🏻♀️
https://t.me/LauraAbolichannel
Forwarded from The General
BREAKING: Many Americans now believe the U.S. government is planning to stage a fake “alien invasion” as part of a push for a New World Order.
@GeneralMCNews
@GeneralMCNews
Poem – “Song of the Guernsey Sea”
> The sea does not rush—it remembers.
Each wave a syllable from the island’s first dream,
where wind and salt conspired to teach the stones to listen.
The rocks, ancient and unhurried,
wear the wisdom of surrender.
They do not fight the tide;
they let the ocean carve its scripture into their skin.
Foam gathers like laughter around their feet—
holy mischief of water and air—
reminding us that purification need not hurt,
only dissolve what was never ours to hold.
Above, the clouds rehearse the art of uncertainty;
beneath, the depths pulse with a secret calm.
And somewhere between the thunder and the hush,
a gull’s cry stitches heaven back to earth.
O Guernsey sea,
your breath is the hymn of balance—
the eternal meeting of solidity and shimmer,
of body and soul,
of everything and no-thing.
May those who stand upon your shore,
remember what the waves already know:
We were born from motion,
and stillness is simply the sea resting inside us.👀❤️
> The sea does not rush—it remembers.
Each wave a syllable from the island’s first dream,
where wind and salt conspired to teach the stones to listen.
The rocks, ancient and unhurried,
wear the wisdom of surrender.
They do not fight the tide;
they let the ocean carve its scripture into their skin.
Foam gathers like laughter around their feet—
holy mischief of water and air—
reminding us that purification need not hurt,
only dissolve what was never ours to hold.
Above, the clouds rehearse the art of uncertainty;
beneath, the depths pulse with a secret calm.
And somewhere between the thunder and the hush,
a gull’s cry stitches heaven back to earth.
O Guernsey sea,
your breath is the hymn of balance—
the eternal meeting of solidity and shimmer,
of body and soul,
of everything and no-thing.
May those who stand upon your shore,
remember what the waves already know:
We were born from motion,
and stillness is simply the sea resting inside us.👀❤️
“Vale in the Veil”
(by Ray of Light)
The west wind hums through the heathered hush,
and mist drifts like memory across L’Ancresse.
Beneath it, the stones remember—
not with words, but with weight and patience.
The church spire rises, a compass of grace,
pointing home for souls who forgot
how near heaven always was.
Light gathers where breath meets belief,
a silver silence between cloud and tide,
whispering: see, you were never lost—
only learning how to look.
No need for sermons here;
the sermon is the air itself,
the echo between the rocks,
the warmth behind the wind.
So linger, even after scrolling.
Let your eyes rest a little longer.
What you call fog,
the island calls prayer.
Be Love. Be Light. .👀❤️
(by Ray of Light)
The west wind hums through the heathered hush,
and mist drifts like memory across L’Ancresse.
Beneath it, the stones remember—
not with words, but with weight and patience.
The church spire rises, a compass of grace,
pointing home for souls who forgot
how near heaven always was.
Light gathers where breath meets belief,
a silver silence between cloud and tide,
whispering: see, you were never lost—
only learning how to look.
No need for sermons here;
the sermon is the air itself,
the echo between the rocks,
the warmth behind the wind.
So linger, even after scrolling.
Let your eyes rest a little longer.
What you call fog,
the island calls prayer.
Be Love. Be Light. .👀❤️