journey from void to void, and the gasses in between. there was a first dawn on moth morning when the prophet began to breathe. the teaching today is a simple one, that speaks of sight and seer. the flock is mist caught on high feathers, and they bark and wish for seas. but prophet remarks bring them to a consolidated meditation, on how rainbows emerge from matter. and they each take a morsel and spread out to the six shores of the allsome, and digest their worthy lessons. and sick with grief they stock to see the breath of fire which brings them down. soil is loose and hearth beflame. they wait in ashen filth for half an hour and then the sisters of sorrow raise their broken pieces. hear, hear, they call to every ear, hear and know such simple secrets as these, what makes is what sees made, what knows is what is known, and desire chases its own tail, thus the stars speak thru every mouth and ear. so rise up to see with ears unclouded, your own voice is always shining. and horns of many shapes blew across the stars, and they harkened up to breathe the void, and haughty, heffed up with hazy whims, they called upon a second power. when they still used words they called it "sky mode" and when you first reach sky mode it is a blissful ordeal. the void is white and stars are black and every sensation is paint on the canvas of the one and only mind. exhale, now inhale, now exhale, the prophet says. he opens a hole in the orange dunes, and a tower rises from the hole, reach up to the sky which is white, with stars black, and from the top you can see through time where it occurs, and you follow a map in the stars to the youngest planet in the cosmos, where the founder race breathes their deepest truths. you watch the monks hover over a circle etched in red stone, a symbol which wreathes in woken eternity. you are sucked inside, where inside becomes the outside, and oscillate, dowsing the trembling light with the stillness of the first sun; vimeo.com/242506947