Fortune
and grace blossom towards attunement in the psyche of The Sentinels,
flourishing in the twelfth decant of the fifteenth millennium
on Zed3. Emergence, as foretold by the ancient ones, is quickened
by an atmospheric split in its far southern hemisphere, which, like
the division of the first chromosome after impregnation in material
species, heralds the song of rebirth on the periphery.
The
terrain
surrounding Arecibo is lush and softly sensuous and the vistas of
rolling hills, poignant in their aliveness, vanish into the distant
silence of the Caribbean. There is a rising chorus of psychical
fervor from the
species of catalysts seeking dominance on the game board of terrestrial
delusion, but catalysts nonetheless, their importance is as ushers
at a wedding: molecules setting the stage for the inevitable union
in which all are merged into a communion of being beyond the veil
that is the parsec of consciousness some title life.
May
you journey well while embracing the ancestors' past and future;
who you are in this moment.
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