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Time is a luxury we no longer possess

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  Time is a luxury we no longer possess Our battered Subi spacecraft, a relic in the night Flickering erratic, its core a dying light On Primary Trade Lane Delta-Nine, a river of light so grand But cycles bled away, draining across the land BK slumped, pale and strained, JB with eyes closed in despair Time a luxury we no longer possessed, consumed by cosmic air. No stopping in uncharted space No "stop and revive" in this perilous, uncharted space. The Rumour Mill's comfort is a memory, lost to time and trace. The exorbitant demand is a punch right to the gut. Our savings drained, our journey's hope, behind a costly shut. Slingshot into an anomaly But Katcha's mind intertwined with Subi, a final desperate plea, "A predictive model for a slingshot to the anomaly!" "Best case, worst case": a gamble to save everything we hold dear, with a 45% chance of structural damage, battling hope and fear. To that faint, almost imperceptible energy signature, ...

Moon over Desert


Hole in the Wall: Moon over Desert

Within solitude, there is self-beauty to be discovered.
Engage silence and dismiss the want to share.
And dismiss the necessity to be liked.
And love the abstract of your abyss.
Be satisfied by the soiling and scratching of time.
Whilst crawling and scampering throughout.
The same mistakes.
The same divisions.
The same crisis.

When secrets have long passed their importance.
And the desert sea shimmers under full moon.
Recognise that glorious intent is cyclical.
Without thought and without hoopla grasp this intent.
Without the need.
Without the seeing.

What is fully understood is quickly dismissed.
Your story has the greater impact.
Your synthesis of fact diminishes being.

Nothing will hurt you in your solitude.
Within cyclic patterns enable the time to feel your situation.
What is in determinism.

As an insect in forrige.
And thankful for the ambient light.
The casting your domain is difficult to define.
Let in the universe.
The stars, the planets, the reflected matter.
Shimmer and reflect your unspoken meaning.
Rejoice your memories, your shadows, loss and sense of being.
Move in cycles rather than from left to right, and back and forward.
Rather than in linear action.







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