Check iphone recordings 6-9

The dark and cold, the empty, sliding through it, slipping between here and there, sliding the far aways together. Whispers to the dark gods, prayers to put them to sleep, to make them dull and distracted, quiet and far away. The rhythms are exactly what the ship should do, landing pulling, towing, lightly touching down, breaking away in a blast of energy, mostly creeping careful and cautious. Parking orbit is establishing the pattern and then kicking in the loop, the living ship has to have a heart beat if the are going to leave it, and the beat will only sustain the ship if nothing disturbs the beating heart, the pattern that pulses, echos of the last song. Only a bit of dead junk can go around forever, but a ship is alive, it carries it’s own ocean and clock as each person is a tiny ocean and clock.

The poetic bible of the cosmos, develop the cosmology, the great myths that tie the universe together.

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