Scientist: A Yes, Pink Floyd, and John Coltrane Experience
Survival 0:00-1:18
Reality, even when unfathomable, retains billions of absent voids, and in one astronomical unit, untamable gravity assigned my birth to the Hadean Eon wherein I must confine my scriptures to this special planet to eventually know Why. Why baryonic matter; why majestic hellfire gases about stars live or dead interrupt vacuums; why fragile, tenacious life and innocuously inanimate nouns; why I must revel in the moment through my inscriptions without forgetting them. Billions of years shall I exist here till transcending; I've billions of years to learn Why.
Out from magma seas foams upon the basalt shores the diminutive manifestation of my mechanisms housing mind, penmanship, and incomprehensible physiologies. Ululating comes before my realizing of my own existence, yet there is no substantial reason why. The flames castigating my structures, for movement is not something registered, are not the reason for my crying. Myself and my infant companion are the subjugated enemy of the illimitable armies heralded from Theia's command. And the war rages on even when our own intrinsic festering continues to produce molten scoriaceous tears of rage. In my prostrate position assuming an idiot-like incomprehension, new effigies of crags, precipices, and hellscapes were pedestaled, and the new blood moon's hubris in assuming utmost luminosity in the gloaming than plasmatic sol, was doomed by Elyon's (the Most High's) almighty gravitational power to infinitely show its ugly cratered and bludgeoned face. When finally, grandiose was my first thought, the cyclic binding problem turned proposing the notion that my innards and entrails are not fragile when hither, and will prosper thus. Long since my crying, my taciturn silhouette records, inviolately, the taming of the wreathed one's fiery Celsiuses against Elyon, whose elderly age reigns blithely from raining ichor from meteorites afar. And desiderating whereof was the content of my first thought epochs ago insinuating the fruition of thought itself; mere purpose was mine, and success also Elyon the Cosmos'.
Rise & Shine 1:00-3:32
Terrestrial and extras seen thereon were, are, and will be reactant and product. Synonymous thereof is as it was, it was written thus. Both were, are, and will be causal. When the previous hundreds of millions of chronologies engulfed my shell in servitude, was it still with fervor when the inks were of remnants of diorite, scoria, and basalt, but never was it the erodible ichor comprised of hydrogen and oxygen, realized some of my purpose. Had I any sanctity, a prayer beseeching Elyon when my sight perpetually gibbers towards the green sky would petition that a new canvas, for mine is tattooed opaquely scabrous from muddled colors of different terrestrial inks created throughout the eras, is necessary. And I am feeble, the advent of availing myself when Elyon's reign in the heavy bombarding as of late ceased, for I introspected as I paced in oblong formation in my three continual gardens, Vaalbara, Ur, and Kenorland that something needn't be written on my skin. Was I, the eldest of the bene Elohim (sons of the gods), right in this conclusion?
Millions of years later when sauntering along the shores of my first two rock gardens, I recognize my elder age when the brawn of the infantile microbially giant Nephilim tested Elyon's inorganic manifestations. Elucidating why I recall my nine fifths and one billion, is that I've still stagnated at the impasse, and I thank those dry and frozen years of toing and froing the boreal and nether sections, for I was anxious when I termed those bene Elohim, Nephilim; they'd only known ascension. And what I had learn from them when springtime emerges out of the receding coldness is to write. How could I transcend if was I to endure the impasse any longer?
There's green in my garden of Kenorland, and having not been smit, they've crawled unto land beyond the ichor. As stromatolites were the end of the cyanobacterium's tirade against Elyon's parameters, we bene Elohim were testaments of reactants and products, and forever are those testaments encrusted over crags and crevices. Theirs' from the exodus were literal, and mine are inscribed unto my cerebral ones. As memories, I watched the Archean that crawled out of the water.
Pursuance 0:00-10:43
Cold and rapid; glaciers and everywhere. Inscribing into my brain, I must first remember that, saturated with a new chemical, the oceans of Sheol subjugated those anaerobic cyanobacterium. And still they banded and battled, thus shedding illimitable red wetness in iron. Then they were the Nephilim when Sheol, once made of ichor, turned to ocean water. Their souls emanated oxygen so greatly that the upward air, once comprised of carbon dioxide and methane, went stifled into upcoming winter.
In my youth, I was used to looking up, for Elyon's reign was apparent, and to record his triumphs was as institutionalized as molecular processions hither and thither; live or dead; stable or changeable. My eyeline newly downward cascaded over the other bene Elohim to witness their birth from the ichor once from above, and upon my sauntering of Nuna, I ponder their alien process of ceasing to exist.
For one whole night, I choose to be stationary to synthesize all that I've scribed. My returned upward gaze sees that the cratered sentry turned away, I know ignominy will come; thus my folly from failing to comprehend fronts a mendacity whereof beguiles that I'm mesmerized at the color of a brand new day and its meaning. Therefore, the heralded pejorative was Behemothic when all ocean water reshapes from its curvilinear nature to jaggedly hardened ice.
When full night hath come upon the first full Huronian day, still the brightness of the Behemoth lit tenebrously; the gloaming was produced from atop the earth surface. The next inscription relays that wonderous Pannotia, a piece of Rodinia, grew out of that garden and went nethermost prompting a fortuitous tantalizing. The consequence, whether leagues or fathoms, were ferocious strides growing luridly hoary. Sadly, even the Behemoth's ubiquitous strength turns from unscalable into headlands, and prolongations into stifled halituses. Imagine me, pallid and gaunt and beset with wonder when gazing upward for Elyon.
And Elyon's venerability made crawling Life; according to one of three practices for these helel ben sahar (Shining One, Son of Morning) he made them evolve; heavenly male and heavenly female and heavenly did Elyon make them as another bene Elohim. When the brutes, the Nephilim, went away, henceforth came the helel ben sahar. Inscriptions thus, pedantically examine the helel ben sahar, and their eukaryotic physiologies. They languishingly persist through the billion long bore; however, the submarine throng has three practices in total, one according to each lot. One worships the dead, some obviate the weak, and the last propitiate in ancient sun rituals. Elyon's appointing of daemonic cataclysms remains expedient prompting portents, ecosystems, dark ages, and extinctions.
Heavenly beings dependent on those three practices appear to service, and deoxyribose nucleic acid defines them. From the coruscations on surfaced sea water, the Precambrian seas gracefully signal the Ophanim's zeal. The underwater fire that was of their duration constituted as the Ediacaran. The Ophanim test these waters with authorless genetic maxims, whereof its holistic nature contains their liminal underlays. Eyeless polyps see their anatomies are unfortunately befitting heaps of disquiet, hence their availing emanates from ameliorating prodigiously suitable combinations. To opine the pinnacle of performing among the underwater ground constitutes as an unknown; however, both disreputable and Ophanim are not synonymous. Cubits, and in reference to prior eukaryotes, the Ophanim's sheer size is incomparable. To limn may beget embellishment; therefore, I bare no false witnessing through admiration, and I avoid follies through adhering to singularly delineating that their size is much less than the dimensions of mine own multitudinous limbs. The non-sequitur regarding the fated Ophanim, and would read impertinent, illustrates the sight-unseen inflexible instituting of a revisited worldwide glacier. From purveyors of evolution at civility's crest to languishers under frozen catacombs, gone are the Ophanim.
My looking upwards are epistles addressed to Elyon, whom has pertinency to my desiderating; I regale beseechingly, yet emphatically listen. Introspecting realizes misunderstood nuances, thus the presence of delusion has pertinency to my worrying. With surmised ignorance or venerability, I perceive a protestation whereof elucidates my transcending; new propensities consider that my treads were effaced through passing time, and the outer earth in the Phanerozoic reacts no longer to my diminutive denuding from perdurable sauntering thereon. Yet in my diminishing vacuousness, with the exception of teleological acquisitions, a subject matter begetting appreciation from shirking afield that hath greater salience than myself concerns beholding the heavenly civilized helel ben sahar; verdurous, flowing, limping, or microbially austere.
Life defines the term magisterial. Sincerity underlies my ruminating, and what ubiquitous clamor has deafened my mental inscriptions is diminutive when I remember an ancient inscription, bene Elohim. With comprehension surmised from fervid servitude in the waste of short eons, unanticipated was endless birth. With the Cambrian period of yore, could one era have the seraphim swarm the gardens and swim the waters, and mistaken or diminutive is my perceived transcendence.
Manifesting is a rebuking regret when miscalculated inscriptions explain that the helel ben sahar merely obviate for lesser legates through underneath helixes. For, new denizens' trespassing unto noxious Gondwana are kindred to the Ophanim, or sardonically consume to persist, and are unalike to the Ophanim in these aberrant wonts. However, I faintly recall a malleable pursuit wherein how the decree of the bene Elohim correctly acquit themselves unapologetically with the prolonging of living. Simply, their silhouette engendered from the molecular alignments themselves produces an indescribable emotion where mesmerized merely trifles therewith.
Now look at the radiodonts, arthropods, and eurypterids. Behold now, the strength is in the Silurian, and the force is in the composition of climate. They set up verdure on shoreline marshes, and their roots are wrapped together. Placoderms's sides are sides of hard shell, and Gondwana's desert backbone is strong. Corporeal seraph's zenith is in attendance, with two they cover fated backboned creatures with underneath helixes of liminality, and the two they are called synapsids and sauropsids. Is extinction the chief creation of Elyon; made to be played with by the bene Elohim?
It was fine bemoaning Protosaurus, the eldest, from the waste of long lifetimes. In the painful daylight, wandered the eldest in their youth. Their affairs unabashedly engender survival, and they, the young malakh, now perish as if rebuked. Should unforgotten Protosaurus heed, you malakh roamed in doomed Permian times, and gifted strengthened helixes. They were comely, ravenous, goliath, yet fated creatures. When I was in the Triassic, I saw feathered bipeds with long-vertebra pining for fish. When the delight of their species passed, it was with stern mourning that inscriptions of saurischia and ornithiscia boasting ubiquitous malakh into prosperity simply were pedantic. O Elyon, I propitiate and pray, was my ruminating of the past condemning this sacred ground with a bygone rebuke, a singular bombardment befitting only to the Hadean? For in another ash-laden gloaming, I sauntered amidst continual disquiet, and desiderated Protosaurus and Tanystrohpeus, those bene Elohim did not perish as if reproached like the famed and feathered malakh of yesterday.
And in the Cenozoic, a perusal of embittering introspection befell my languished witnessing. Wherefore do I inscribe? I inscribe to transcend, but has the ground not contained gardens and the bene Elohim? Where shall be the fruits of my inscribing? How extinction is inevitable; how impassioning these inquiries paralyzed my wandering, can I not serve witnessing or scribing save for the finale.
And in that era, cherubs calculated artificiality and was emotion alive. A genesis birthed from the elder world.