We already moved with planet, ceiling and all the rest. The Reversions. Coordinates still under the fog.
Down here, ways and procedures without conscience of the move, do not work.
A labyrinth suspended in time and without tides suckling from itself.
But if there is, just about everything. The will is turning on the axis of Diversities.
When we thought we saw it all, another assorted litter comes along.
We are in another beginning. Although there was no end, with a thousand names, colours and flavours.
Tides with a repertoire to choose which moonlight makes iridescent and which sun matches up.
Diversifying even the one that will be many, unleashing doubts on the unit,
suspecting of the herald who put everybody on the same sack inexorably.
Diversities do not come in 3D but in nine, if tedium arrives there is barter of worlds.
They have the versatility of play-dough, but of plastics and torture they heard not.
What is not found around here, they bring it form the otherworld and excess is sent there.
It’s very clear to them the figure of positive and negative; as states and only temporary.
Very clear that the physical is a matter of machinery. Nothing personal. Clearer than water.
They bring a collection of substitutions, substitutes and even replaceable to clear up.
It’s funny for them this thing of detachments with reproductions and gestation so complicated,
they exhale and detachments come out as torrents. And in so many and countless ways.
They think it’s wicked this game of tying detachments for continuity if they already are.
Witticism as opaque as those from selectors* sound unnecessary to them.
Diversities can be whatever they want, they do not need to snatch from anyone.
And control schemes, thrones and prisons appear obtuse. They mute.
They know races do not exist, like us, but we keep striving on the ‘human race’.
They cross species, yes, in plural; we stick to the ‘human specie’.
They change bodies as if they were wardrobe, we are still ‘humans’.
Their tides arrive timely to lighten up the dark ill-starred prestidigitations,
extending the magic of diversities which metamorphose by replicating freely.
They are not attitude but reality. They are not an ode to happiness but an assortment of options.
May diversities diversify the limited diversity.
May their tides pass on eclipsed diversities.
May the pace be assorted unconditionally.
We arrive at this turn at 22:45 UT (Source), and the phase lasts until 4 May 2015