Galactica
Like hurricane-swarms of bees -
the galaxies swirl on their courses
imprinting spinning traces
into the soft flanks of the vacuum
of enormity,
self-propelled by plasma engines
in their blackly devastating cores,
devouring and distributing universes as they go.
Our little system on the periphery of hushed nothingness:
a conglomerate nano speck:
solar fractals of dancing mandalas
mirroring the worlds above, within
with mycorrhizal communication networks interactively hooked up,
chatting with each other, star to star
on crystalline frequency highways;
their information hubs, grounded and earthed in lodestone hotspots
spewing constant data around,
between their planetary stellations
and further outpost fields.
There, home bases for all kinds of inconceivable (to us)
lifeforms exist beside our own brethren, star-relatives
- Hathor, Plaediean, Arcturian, Sirian, Mayan:
leaving their travel-lines of Nazca,
glyphs and ideographs on cliffs
and in caves, pyramids, obelisks, volcanic cones,
subterranean structures; in antediluvian peoples
and myths of buried treasure, extraterrestrial visitations,
geodetic and genetic measurements
with histories of intelligent interference.
Ye literal gods! What else to expect?
Why not!
with your artifacts, high-tech skills, logical brains and beating hearts
inspired by cosmic messiahs: Quetzalcoatl, Krishna, Christ, Maitreya,
Horus, Hermes, Mithras, Zeus, Ahura Mazda, Li Hong
all bespeaking of legacies of galactic citizenship. Divine origins.
Jan ‘23