13: The Mountain Sound

Now He sits upright in bed eating green apples and almond butter. Alone. Finally Alone. Finally in a space he may devote himself entirely to the Music, to the construction of the Craft so long forcasted in the forest of Vision of the all to come.

Alone. Finally alone. It feels so strange not being with her, especially during these times, but he knows the space is good for both and she is cradled in loving arms.

Alone with his creation. Where he's so deeply longed to be. Where there is nothing else but full receptiviTy to the Signal, the Tone- Letting go- the Embodying CreaTurAhz- but tonight the doorway to DigiTalis is closed, blocked by a force of sheething mystery. He searches for a formula to enter inside, to get out of the current paradigm, though all processes tried are passionless, and he watches himself become disinterested as a body constricting, enthusiasm waining with every shortening breath. He's received blueprints to the ship, devoted this entire summer to become fluent in the language of music, though as he sits ready to receive, there is no voice in calling.

Have you forgotten how to speak to me?
Move as the River in me

Recognizing a miscalculation within reception, a constrictive tone riddling the body, he releases, calling... Flow Love, where are you?

She Calls. He Answers: I  Live atop the Mountain amidst the Full Moon.  Come Love, come Touch Me. I  do. You the forever I  fall through. Cradled in the Embrace of all who’ve stood before, Cradled in the Tides, New times in our Gaia, Cradled in the hands of Destiny Calling We Home Free Alea.