I look down on these hills beneath the shadow of the plane eclipsing the distance...
The mountains folded covered with trees, deep in the folds are the animals the dogs the crawling beings, its their world now....
We used to belong there it's where we came out from and where we are too afraid to return...
(Oh, we go there, we play among the grasses, we spend money on talismans to protect us in that place. But we are afraid of our nakedness, cover ourselves with technolgy and sadness, wear our fear like a cloak, separate from the world).
Which I think to myself is just fine with the animals...
In the polluted distance of the air I ride on that was once clear and free I think to myself we don't feel wlecome here anymore anywhere in fact,
we don't really care about the other beings of this place call them roadkill it's the closest most of us ever come to them anymore anyway,
we don't remember that we built the roads that kil them that kill us, I'm not sure we get a second chance at this thing...
Coming in to land, the factories that build the roads and all this progress that holds this plane aloft, and I can see below me gulls wheeling over the bay, the water full of old, sure life...
I know something will last after all...
Go back to Talismans
This is an ever-evolving journey. Spiral back
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