... "Why am I so cold ... ?"
He was in his early twenties .. holding his stomach tight. His whole body was shaking. He could not stop the shaking. A young man trained to kill. He was not trained how to die ...
"I'm so cold .. " he said. "Why am I so cold ??"
The blue orgone disk vectored in to hover unseen above the snow.
"He killed someone!" said a voice.
"Yeh! We know."
"I can't get warm .. why am I so cold?" the young man asked.
"Don't you know that you're dead?"
"I'm so cold," was all he could say, "Why am I so cold?"
A blue orgone disk hovered silently above the body lying face down in thick snow. A light scanned the ground; but there was no sign of the spirit. Did they lose him?
"He's not here," said a voice.
"Can you find his trail?"
"No sign!" said the voice. "Nothing! We don't see any sign."
The young man was shaking, holding his arms tight around his stomach.
"Why am I so cold?"
In the distance Native American drums began a steady beat. The soft rhythm of the drum caught the silence. The young man stopped shivering. He raised his head, staring into the distance. Could he hear the drums?
The blue orgone disk hovered above the snow casting an unseen ultraviolet light across the pristine white wilderness. The pilot of the disk could see every spirit trail across the Earth's magnetic field.
"I can't see him," said a voice, " there is nothing down there .. no sign!"
Can silent disks from the future hear Native American drums?
The young man followed the natural sound .. the voices of the ancestors chanted beat-by-beat with the steady rhythm of the drum. Deep tracks in the snow, unseen by the human eyes, led to the drummer. Three Native American warriors came out to meet the young man, as he walked towards them through the white spirit of the mountains.
The Native spirit warriors were wearing natural deerskin. They chanted as they walked behind the young man-spirit. His shaking had now left him. He was no longer cold. The young man's shoulders were straight and broad. His steps though the snow were easy and measured. He walked with ease and with dignity. He was coming home.
An almond portal opened before him. Grandfather stood near the portal wearing a shaman's robe, bone beads braided into his long hair. Grandfather looked straight at the blue orgone disk hovering above. The Native Spirits followed the young man through the shimmering light-filled portal.
The chanting voices of the Native Americans slowly faded beyond the Earth as the beat of the drum became silent. Grandfather turned to follow .. the blue orgone disk shifted its position to hover high above the mountain. The craft cleaned up the last remnants of the earthly astral form.
The almond shaped spirit portal closed silently behind the last steps of Grandfather. The spirits did not look back nor hesitate in their passage of return. The spirit portal left no sign of its existence. The blue orgone disk disappeared without a trace.
He was in his early twenties .. holding his stomach tight. His whole body was shaking. He could not stop the shaking. A young man trained to kill. He was not trained how to die ...
"I'm so cold .. " he said. "Why am I so cold ??"
The blue orgone disk vectored in to hover unseen above the snow.
"He killed someone!" said a voice.
"Yeh! We know."
"I can't get warm .. why am I so cold?" the young man asked.
"Don't you know that you're dead?"
"I'm so cold," was all he could say, "Why am I so cold?"
A blue orgone disk hovered silently above the body lying face down in thick snow. A light scanned the ground; but there was no sign of the spirit. Did they lose him?
"He's not here," said a voice.
"Can you find his trail?"
"No sign!" said the voice. "Nothing! We don't see any sign."
The young man was shaking, holding his arms tight around his stomach.
"Why am I so cold?"
In the distance Native American drums began a steady beat. The soft rhythm of the drum caught the silence. The young man stopped shivering. He raised his head, staring into the distance. Could he hear the drums?
The blue orgone disk hovered above the snow casting an unseen ultraviolet light across the pristine white wilderness. The pilot of the disk could see every spirit trail across the Earth's magnetic field.
"I can't see him," said a voice, " there is nothing down there .. no sign!"
Can silent disks from the future hear Native American drums?
The young man followed the natural sound .. the voices of the ancestors chanted beat-by-beat with the steady rhythm of the drum. Deep tracks in the snow, unseen by the human eyes, led to the drummer. Three Native American warriors came out to meet the young man, as he walked towards them through the white spirit of the mountains.
The Native spirit warriors were wearing natural deerskin. They chanted as they walked behind the young man-spirit. His shaking had now left him. He was no longer cold. The young man's shoulders were straight and broad. His steps though the snow were easy and measured. He walked with ease and with dignity. He was coming home.
An almond portal opened before him. Grandfather stood near the portal wearing a shaman's robe, bone beads braided into his long hair. Grandfather looked straight at the blue orgone disk hovering above. The Native Spirits followed the young man through the shimmering light-filled portal.
The chanting voices of the Native Americans slowly faded beyond the Earth as the beat of the drum became silent. Grandfather turned to follow .. the blue orgone disk shifted its position to hover high above the mountain. The craft cleaned up the last remnants of the earthly astral form.
The almond shaped spirit portal closed silently behind the last steps of Grandfather. The spirits did not look back nor hesitate in their passage of return. The spirit portal left no sign of its existence. The blue orgone disk disappeared without a trace.
