wild onion fractal

Lunar Prisoner Colony

They have no spare oxygen

but for the

owl overlords.

“Don’t be surprised, or overwhelmed,

when your magic is proven effective.

Real – transitory.

The black fever of a dying aviation.”

 

The hydrogen they store in

massive

fits of fancy,

cold metallic

revetments, the magnetic bubbles replete with

sound

and matter animate.

Who faced the streaming trees

resplendent

in carbon dioxide suits

moving with a purpose

not seen since the dinosaur cull?

 

Gaze out from the elation

of swinging doors –

locks of the pervasive

dank memes

that speak the story of deletion

to your minds.

To learn to swim within the illumination,

occluded valve of non-believers

now unobstructed.

Now flow

of visitors from Earth.

This timeline

vantage

is open for understanding.