Long years passed and they slowly a-, ever the distance crept closer, until - - their eyes saw, a blue dot in the distance. The bleak irradiance of the convulsion of the young reaction, the phosphate, and the iodine postulated in their visors, and they scanned the skies, and their eyes were sombre, the digits churned in the screens in front of them.

Many swam beside the ship clinging and weaving patterns - - a hundred thousand across, the mural of Seth, and the asunder of Isis. The water giver, the earth breather, the conundrum, a levitation for what illusion beset them now, as if new hope had left spirits far behind.

Their maps and their charts were vast and the filled entire caverns and chambers, scales in perpetuity and the illusion of time and perception was forever their wisdom. For too long they had studied their maps and what of eternity to hope.

Cathedrals and mystics joined in song, in the high notes, the echoes of Zeno X-axis colliding Bleak Corroder of Sightlessness’ and the invisibility of Dearth.

A million years of silence as the million craft of this Exodus crossed the divide between the Dakar Spirals.

Their white banners draped sombre, symbols of Cassius, the five stars on the horizon of Quartz, the debatable first precompiled that undermines everything, as hope left some, and they stopped, and there people ejected themselves into space, the brains splattering, as the sumptuous, naked, posturing, pleading mere-folk swept among them like quicksilver and feasted, their echoes vibrating hauntingly, sensuously, shuddering through the ship, and knocking people on their knees, as if they were some sudden force like a fierce wind.

That the illusions were more powerful, that the mirage was more beautiful, was preferable, as they sat watching nature documentaries, sprawled, and some now had learnt to float, like Lazarus, Lucifer, Gabriel and like. Their eyes like Eagles, and were they now hurters?

Only tears at the natural beauty of the earth, could numb the hours, the years, and at last lost, could they succumb to the despair of the pointlessness, the hum and taste of plastic, and the fabricated breeze, made ill and manicured.

They had at last reached Eden,

The multitude left their crafts now les, now fewer, none could hear to count, and what of numbers as they began to swim into the near atmosphere, into the pale blue brilliance and through a blanket of cloud.

They became occident, and surveyed. For they had landed all over the earth, plunging deep into the Ocean, Jumping from branch to branch in the forests and the jungles, flying over the plains, climbing hills and circling the white mountains. Who knows their number for arithmetic was the evil of mathematics; it was the pugilist, the destructive, the cumulative that would eat the earth like a plague of rats and insects.

Lucifer or he who had many names, and Lazarus, the peace giver, Abraham, the choir of Angels sand and they gathered, and pointed at the stars. For a million years they had lived and they had forgotten about death, so for them time had no movement on.

The continents shifted. From their Stores above they brought their docile animals and plentiful crops.

Naked, fucking for a hundred millennia, a blissful orgiastic symphony groaning in unison echoes into the sky, levitates on mountain tops, the cumulous, indolent and drunk.

The golden sunlight blinded them, and they weep at the blue sky, all day, into the night, and they howl at the stars.

In a diorite moment of clarity, reflection, a last pinnacle, a moment of remembrance before they cast of this their perpetual curse, the unfolding lurch. Some pointer, some need, and I carved the moon and so did you all those millions of years ago when we sent it on through the dim galaxies, how beautiful is its shape, a perfect sphere to reflect the glorious light of the son.

Sum hope, some salvation to never see the son, only the claustrophobic knight, and if someone strikes a beacon, a red flame, a message that all this is perhaps unnecessary, and in sum dim memory you remember that it is somehow superfluous.

Cast upon it indelible form and its shadow ever past through the sun

The blight

The famine

The Distant clusters where spirits haunt velveteen sparseness

The Pyramids were finished they looked magnificent, it had taken them all day but these mighty monuments looked magnificent, and their pinnacle pointed out into the night sky towards Earth and towards the Asteroids and there they buried all their ancient artefacts and maps and histories,

We are not parasites; we must preserve this place, beautiful Eden.

Did we not leave the old earth because it was parched? Covered in concrete, with the algae factories on Mars feeding the 50,000 Billion people below, firing the sewage ships, and waste ships in the sun, burrowing beneath the core, to extract magma, and to power our insane consumption – We were we not the poor ?,

A million years of toil for what salvation, a hundred thousand lives on earth, and because of your greed you walk on the bodies of all the dead slaves

They made only one law, that there should be Equilibrium, not endless cumulative growth

I forget, and I all things, and a ways, and all that

Incense in Sun……………………

Once again, forward from here, in the last gasp

Nesting for the summer, their children to feed, and him a strange wanderer to the people,

he watched the day and the night, for he never slept, and never ate, yet those who went with him were never hungry, for lions he could slay, three one night, one after another they came, and his spear felt soft flesh and upon lion flesh they dined, except him who took all three hearts and drained them of their blood and drank their contents whole, one after another, and his eyes sparked yellow- For he was protector of these people.

Shiva bid these ships down to sleep, before his body failed, snow and forests.