miles away from contemporary communication, lost in thoughts that cannot be communicated in any grand detail or efficiency. We lose track of space and time and ride a current that is sometimes indistinct. It pushes us away from who we were. It pulls us toward who will be. The speed and direction are determined primarily by lucky breaks. Loopholes in the fabric of time. The space-time wool knit sweaters. Only worn by astronauts, the grandsons of global explorers. Traverse into new lands for life in the soil. Life that lasts eternally on its own. Preserves that could use less human activity inside to maintain on a natural scale.
We are letting ourselves fall victim to this current, this movement beneath our feet. We allow our societal speed dictate a portion of overall velocity. Mostly the current speed is one hinged upon sheer lucky and motivation to continue forward at a decent stride. No longer a frozen stride.
