More Backlogs (The Universe as Placebo)

The Pleiadian L. Edgar Otto 01-16-10

Bounded by time's beginning and its end
our life song's strings are struck
at some primal place, the Lyre tuned out
of dissonance, a new game improvised
At the frontier chaos of seventh chords

The blue babies, reptilian the hole in their hearts
leaving the checky shores slowly fade
into the horizon in phase with the calves
the eyes uncertain, the rays of light looking
Back reflecting from sinking stars before their vanishing

Yet the visitor, the Pleiadian knew theirs an endless walk
no more would they be crushed at singularity
anymore than he, the strings like Saturn rings
thick or thin their mass and hours in completed rainbows
As if a part of him a fallen angel. time weighed him down

More than did the dust, He knew his brainy crust of dreams
Not sand and iron enough long to stay the rust


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The Pleiadian

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