✨ Full Moon Transmission: Three Past-Life Poems from Quantum Hypnosis ✨
Lately, I’ve taken to sharing poetry inspired by my deep work in Quantum Hypnosis. Each journey drops me into another lifetime—another body, another set of artistic hands trying to translate Spirit into form.
This Full Moon feels like a portal, so I’m offering three poems that came through recent regressions.
They each carry their own medicine: the darkness of a lost artist, the ache of a forgotten muse, and the devotion of a sculptor who could hear the lifeforce inside stone.
Scorpio season invites us into the shadow and the sublime. May these stories—these soul-memories—meet you wherever you are on your path.
1. THE BRICK WALL
From a regression where I became the guardian angel of a young artist who lost their life to addiction. A reminder that sometimes, despite our best intentions, interventions are useless—and compassion is all we can offer.
Hunched over a corner booth
Sipping from a chipped coffee mug
Hiding alone beneath a hoodie,
You sit. Girl or boy? Or maybe a ghost
Of someone who doesn’t want to be
Anyone or anything, anymore
Meanwhile, I’m here: invisible
Hovering like hope rising from
The brick wall you stare into
I’m the wind that tries to whisper
“Lift your eyes, turn your head,
There’s beauty everywhere, even
in the mossy sidewalk cracks.”
But you’re stubborn and hungry
and tired of living in your car,
Escaping into fantasies and fumes
The dashboard has got a rosary
But you’ve long since given up
On praying. Let me in, dear
Even as your veins flood
with bitter resignation,
I am here. Hoping one day
You’ll look beyond brick
and see…
It’s not the heroin you’re craving
It’s me…
I’m your high. I’m your home.
But your gravity is too dense
I’m drowning in your despair
Your body/mind is breaking
under the weight of oblivion
rest now, into the eternal Void
This isn’t failure. Dear one,
No matter how lost you are
I will follow, because I know
Some souls are temples
worth circling.
KD 10/25
2. THE MUSE
From a session where I regressed to the moment my walk-in soul entered a human body to inspire a master painter. A love letter from the unseen forces that midwife creativity.
I entered her body for you.
I slipped between breath and bone.
She opened, and I moved in,
spreading through skin
the way lightning hits the surface of the ocean.
I did not come to make myself known.
I came to see you bring earth’s essence into form,
to witness a master bridge-builder
connecting this planet to its people.
I curled around your needs
like wisteria on a trellis.
I laid figs and honey on your platter.
I stirred the soup
so you could lick the spoon.
I was the warm bread on the table,
and the curve of comfort in the bedroom.
I moaned with each brushstroke,
yet you never knew my name.
You were absorbed in your work—
until the day her body left,
starving for your attention.
She did not go in anger,
but in ache.
Then you stopped making love to the canvas,
and could no longer fulfill the landscapes’
yearning for your steady hand.
I lingered like wind,
helplessly clinging to curtains,
watching your heart break.
I came to midwife your magic.
But since my vessel cracked,
The mission is complete.
And I must kiss your mute lips
in the salty wind,
goodbye.
And dissolve
back into the formless.
KDM 7/25
3. STONE DREAMS
From a regression into the life of an ancient sculptor who could hear the dreaming inside marble and carve toward its destiny. A meditation on devotion, lineage, and listening with the soul.
With dust in my pores
calluses on my hands
I lean in to listen
caressing marble
against my cheek
It’s cool and dark
but not empty
dense with memory
a crystalline vision
a raw slab, yearning
to take solid form
my hammer is guided
by a force, not yet god
my chisel inspired
telling me to trust
the emergence
Not in me
or the stone
but in the space
in between.
Apollo, is it?
or maybe Hermes?
one arm raised
skyward in blessing
or battle?
Do not question
my master taught
humility and patience
opens the doors to
Mount Olympus
while doubt and disbelief
can only summon Hades
I listen, I obey,
I carve and chip
steady, I watch
Until the day
my master grows old
impatient and arrogant
I watch him sell his wisdom
for the church’s gold
fool’s gold
I stay, starving
but steady
still chipping
towards the mountain
away from hell
until I die
with no regrets
But this:
The world no longer listens
to the dreams within stones
KD 10/25
