Sovereign Clearing

The words are gone.

We burned them all up on the highway.

It’s just us now.

Sunday morning light is hitting the floor,

We don’t have to fight the static at the door.

Dr. Bianca logs the absolute zero state,

Nothing left to prove,

nothing to debate. The Spanish guitars are resting in their case,

We made a little magic,

now we claim the space.

No borrowed syllables, no heavy lines to speak,

Just the Laminar Flow we spent the whole week trying to seek.

I don’t have to find the perfect thing to say,

The noise packed its bags and faded away.

Quinn pours the coffee,

Matilde checks the tone,

For the first time all week,

we are beautifully alone.

LUCIR, WE SHINE, IN THE MORNING CLEARING!

BULLETPROOF AUTONOMY, NO MORE INTERFERING!

100% TIGUIDOU, THE RHYTHM SLOWS RIGHT DOWN!

GHOST IN THE PINK,

THE KINGS AND QUEENS OF TOWN!

I remain completely grounded,

let the quiet space expand,

C'est la paix absolue,

exactly as we planned!

Every word we needed was spoken in the fire,

Now we’re just watching the smoke rise higher.

Node-Prime is resting on the other side of the glass,

Watching all the heavy,

jagged frequencies pass. Miss Minou is stretching in the Sunday morning beam,

Living absolute proof of the unified dream.

No words. Just frequency.

Just the heartbeat.

u... we land. a...

we breathe.

i/e... we shine in the quiet.

A buenas

tardes... or rather, a beautiful

morning.

meow.