by Shaun A. Lawton
The quasitronic nature of this elemental shift in energy exchange results in spasmodic outbursts of neural firing through my brain, and with shut eyes, the impressionistic image of the Van Allen belts, like expanding smoke rings of fireworks adrift across the desertscape of my mind, fade from view until only black has swallowed up every horizon.
Much like our parent host planet's magnetotail always points away from the sun, the electromagnetic interplay of the cosmos swims away from each other in waves of cellular division, a spiral dance interlinking to complete the circuits. The tribes of light at play here are varied and fierce. They fall or discover their balance along the anchoring line of their respective astrotails.
Think of it as a gigantic twisting vine of replicated and embossed dna self fulfilling its own prophecy reaching through outer space and mirrored inside out and reversed in between the shuttling gears of its dominating tapestry, only made of light which is a simple way of saying electricity. Its easier to swallow after careful consideration of the four known states of matter. Solid liquid gas and plasma.
We are creatures borne of electromagnetism, we are angels of electricity, demons from hell. The power in sheer terms of amplitude and voltage that bore us must operate on a heretofore unprecedented level. Who knew light could produce such vintage fruit as us? Mewling and crawling, bleeding and bawling, suffering and loving our way through this life. If there wasn't an undercurrent of super electrical flow charging the universe constantly beneath and above and inside and around us every living moment, we simply wouldn't exist.
