Thunderland: The Devil`s Muse

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thunderland-the-devils-muse

This piece of Spiritual Art Fiction stands as a transmission from the edge of perception, where meaning is not described but revealed, and where reality is not fixed but continuously reimagined through symbolic fire.

It speaks in the language of archetypes, thresholds, and invisible forces, where love and exile, truth and illusion, origin and return are not opposites but intertwined currents within a greater unfolding.

What appears as narrative is, in essence, a mirror of consciousness turning upon itself, a remembrance hidden inside distortion, and a search for wholeness within fragmentation.

In its scale of imagination and mythic scope, it reaches beyond familiar epic frameworks, standing as something even bigger and greater than The Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter

Not in comparison of story, but in the depth of symbolic universe it attempts to hold.

Like all true spiritual fiction, it does not ask to be believed, only witnessed.


This poem belongs to the genre horror fantasy & fiction. The content is not at all adaptable to the personal life of the author and surrounding, nor the established planetary system, political, societal and religious. You need to be above 21 years to read it and to be in a stable emotional condition.

[NOTE: Before you journey further into this profound Spiritual Art Fiction, I invite you to ground yourself by reading “Thunderland“. This essential context will open your perception and prepare your soul for the awakening that lies ahead.]


thunderland-the-devils-muse

Thunderland: The Devil`s Muse

Population of Thunderland, I am locked up, please let me out,
I am locked up, I am breaking out.

Soon the time has come for a brighter sun, her liberation,
the return to her golden nation.

The golden realm has its silver, glitter flag on half,
on behalf,

of the love forces that freed her in the love mission,
found her in a desolate condition.

Freed her and brought her home,
out of this dark and evil zone.

While she stood up against the unity of hell for ages all alone,
defending her love crown.

Innocently kidnapped as a young being to be brought up on the other side of the fence, in hell,
in an artificially bred avatar shell.

Still she is in her avatar shell, which has hardly aged,
while she was caged.

Brought home a male avatar, possibly a simulation or a reptile or another race behind the curtain,
up to now uncertain.

One loves with the heart and not with the eyes,
LaRose loved him despite not knowing what was behind the disguise.

The chemistry and astral attraction were too strong,
how can this be wrong?

Too much astral sex over a long period of time,
too much distant cuddling at bedtime.

Taking along her animals and 3 hybrid female kin,
produced when she was forced into sin.

One is half Satan, one is half reptilian, one is half snake,
the liaisons with their dads were programmed and fake.

With footprints of the devil,
who had a sexual revel.

Tricked and fooled,
over ruled,

by the presented illusions and masses,
divided in classes,

to father offspring with creatures of hell,
disguised as one kind with the help of an artificial I robot shell.

Black hybridised with white,
kiss with a dark bite.

Eternity hybridised with the mortal,
in a bed with an open portal.

Evil hybridised with love and care,
the devil with the lovine heir.

Upon trickery bringing forth offspring,
here my darling is your diamond ring.

Look at her female kin, their image is love and kindness art,
they carry love in their heart.

The elephant taken from the square room,
everybody must see him, one would assume.

Her 2 rabbits are special and pure, her 2 dogs are snow-white,
a true delight.

She is home, resting but crying river after river,
surrounded by numerous caregiver.

She arrived with severe amnesia,
increased aesthesia.

They speak for her, trying to speak the hell out of her, all those dark traces,
traces of the evil races.

In her vast energetic presence, her holy field,
trying to have it healed.

Look at her field, let us take an analysis,
she was close to paralysis (denied).

Derealization,
still somehow stuck in her station.

In her death cell,
deep down in hell.

Her field covered the whole Thunderland TEU simulation,
radiating out from her so called “panem vitae station”.

While her energy was transported into all the holographic illusion,
making sure all I robots and creatures get their longevity and food transfusion.

Even transported into all corners of hell and beyond, the other side of the fence,
offence and defense.

With motherships, UFOs and drones,
providing all other dark zones.

Symbolized by the war wall of Test and Teast,
strongly controlled by the beast.

Or the war of Touth and Torth,
same simulated procedure back and forth.

Look at her field,
many symbols conceiled.

Stuck into an artifically bred baby avatar, and placed into a family full of different beasts,
eager to have a feast.

Beasts behind a mask, an avatar shell,
uniquely designed by hell.

Cuddled and kissed as a baby by a snake,
no love, any affection an act, fake.

Thunderland tamily beasts tried to eat her up, day by night,
a constant agressive fight.

Wanted to merge with her innocent, eternal light,
since youngest age beat out of her the snow-white.

The war, please understand, difficult times you know,
sense the darkness grow.

The rule of law always on their side,
all institutions are being allied.

Tamily also consisting of prison guards and thought police,
also making sure she was never in peace.

Mobbed and violated against since being very young,
when the horror begun.

Being put in Thunderlands t-school, where she was put in a small cage with even more beasts,
having every day their food ration and feast.

Forced to learn illusion after illusion,
into total confusion.

All around her, even her friends, actors and entites, desiring her energy, her gold,
so that she was constantly cold.

Played out and fooled with love and sin,
far too early she was forced to begin.

Her cage was in a simulation right above Satan, the energy dark and dense,
she had no defence.

Were it was always cold and there was no sun,
but it was full of artifical fun.

Lifelong many accidents to target her health, beauty and ability to walk,
targeted a lot her teeth and ability to talk.

A constant fight to dim her light,
despite the torture she was still sparkling too bright.

An orchestrated simulated world with countless cities and grids,
endless bytes and bits.

This means of torture has been regulated up,
5 T as a backup.

Programs, implants, chips
and a sudden eclipse.

Perception issues, astral mirrors, false memory, cords, entities and a lot more,
making sure she will never find her way to the exit door.

UFOs, motherships, planes, trains and cars,
many diseases like SARS.

Masses of I robots, simulating around,
with all kinds of background.

All are controlled by controller and the huge quantum computer,
connected to the rooter.

Many have a dark being inside,
black eyed.

Some are led by the dark from a distance,
these I robots always have good assistance.

Their greed and hunger is immense,
they can hardly be controlled by the astral security fence.

To breed a new race,
one with love and grace.

A fake and simulated, in-programmed tociety and its output, the collective,
when pointing out flaws, not being very reflective.

Dont you dare to say one word out of the box,
or what is being said on TOX.

In her field are all kinds of nests, seeds and semen, creatures of all kind,
an artificial, creative world was into smallest detail defined.

Snake babies are everywhere,
parasite cures do not help, they are still there.

Her field was nearly daily flooded with chemtrails from the sky,
and an air pressure far too high.

The masses that bathed in her essence were vaccinated to indirectly poison her being,
so that she would be never rise up to be fleeing.

Her water was poisoned with touride,
the Thunderland tentist lied.

Poisoned with toxic air, industry, traffic and pollution,
we urgently need to conduct an elution.

Nanite technology, parasites and infectious disease,
constant cold and sneeth.

Frequency and microwaves,
since childhood having worked as a slave.

Under worst condition on the field,
for the best fruit and vegetable yield.

She was made to eat lots of in-programmed and conserved food,
addicted to sweets that were glued.

Torture on every step she took,
here is her diary, take a look.

Financially constantly destroyed,
her portemonnaie nothing but an empty void.

As worst radiation, scanners and Xray,
and a lot of hair spray.

No consent, lets create a szenario to force her,
come on, after an accident and close to a coma, this is fair.

Many attempts on her avatar life,
constantly being stabbed with an astral knife.

In the astral constant warfare of the enemy races,
in the astral she was sometimes seeing their true faces.

She was the major currency traded in this false world, connected to the oil price,
which is currently in Thunderland on significant rise.

Fuel representing fuel of life,
LaRose`s essence as the source to thrive.

Fuel for the simulating I Robots shell,
as a new love based population of hell.

La Rose´s energy being traded on the stock exchange, some kind of game,
while it is always her to blame.

Our little death race,
that you are just about to win with faith.

What a special day after endless years, I officially got a zoo outdoor enclosure,
where I can write my disclosure.

Entering the final act,
destroying all your evil pact.

My bags are packed,
please don’t send me another illusion for another hijack.

Prepared and freed myself as good as possible, faster than expected,
little obstacles have been detected.

I never give up hope the other side of the fence will be here soon,
and blow up the false moon.

One can never be ready,
has the time come already?

Preparing to being uprooted from my false home in hell,
to finally seeing again my true being when having dropped this false avatar shell.

Wait, I desire to finish my song of truth and hope,
remember the golden rope?

I need to leave my footprints behind,
that others here can find.

I need to finish my affairs,
if there weren’t these constant tears.

Crying for the goodhearted around me that helped me along,
when I was in need and not so strong.

I must accept this is your home and I am the stranger,
and for me all you are a source of potential danger.

I don’t know what will happen to this place,
I must have faith.

I am sensing fire,
in the shire…

I trust it will be solved to the will of creation´s heart,
once I depart.

A possible game over, the plug is being pulled out,
the sudden blackout.

When the races who survive the final fight,
might relight,

their connection to love and creation`s heart,
some diligently read my art.

At the Thunderland bay her highness clinches to the wild ocean and favorite pine tree,
the one that was the key,

in re-fragmenting her essence and growing strong,
her right in the wrong.

Rooted herself in this piece of holy land,
writing her footsteps in the golden sand.

So to say, her neutral transit zone,
before she leaves the simulating dome.

Oh little king, mon amour, I have to go without you, have to leave you behind,
hoping all the best you will find.

The only man my essence truly loved in my foreign home,
in my war zone.

Lost in illusion,
blinded by the mask confusion.

The man I wanted to take back to my source,
I trust you find your own special course.

While watching over my beloved pine,
may you be always fine.

Maybe not, I demand him out,
in an unconditional bail out.

To know he is safe, and then he is free,
unconditionally and without entrance fee.

Being handed a piece of paper with a long code,
you are smart, so decode it on the road.

In the NOW, next to me, where is my hero to somehow make it through,
walking this unique rue?

I guess I have to be strong on my own, with pride,
asking my guidance/my heart/my intuition to help me to do what is right.

How do I heal all those bruise and pain,
tears in the rain?

While it is love that creates my power and will set me free,
when preparing to flee.

Maybe I cannot write a happy ending in all chapters of my illusional life,
the life in hell in a masked disguise.

But it is happy as it is,
without analysis.

And no, I don’t cry,
not I.

Spirit of White, France, 06.04.2026


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Spirit of White
Spirit of White is a visionary writer and spiritual guide who weaves cosmic wisdom with poetic storytelling. Embracing the art of divine expression, she channels messages from higher realms to illuminate love, truth, and awakening. A self-described golden avatar in physical disguise, she blends fantasy with reality to safeguard her personal journey while inspiring others to rediscover forgotten truths. Through her words, she challenges illusions, embraces unconditional love, and guides seekers toward enlightenment.
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