Amber Flows

An owl hooted. A bat’s wings were flipping through the muddy sky. The moon cried. The Sun smiles. A night wind raises amber through the pores of trees to the openings as tiny as phunk. Amber melting as a night wind serenades. Melting into the muddy reflection of the sky covered with flipping wings of buzzing bats. Streams of molten amber cover the reflection of the sky on the gleaming surface of the river. The Sun smiles. A bird chirps. Clouds are raging. It’s a warm night. The river is silent behind the titillating sparkles on the surface. All is quiet. And it is not. The Sun smiles.

Amber streams mummify the fallen leaves around the roots sticking out of the frowning soil. Brownish is the color of the stream. Undercurrents sense the changes on the undisturbed ground. Raise their voices. Mingling within the constrained space of their flux. Movements like phunkie billows. One mafotherphunkie mollycule sends a jolt to another. Sends the vibe to the next one. Unite in a phunkie cluster. Push the layer of the substance folding it. Probing a bit. Sends the vibe to the neighboring cluster. The vibe enhances. Sends a gentle press onto the brownish conqueror. The Sun smiles.

The roots suck in the disintegrating leaves enveloping the overground branches of the rhizomorphic web. Protective as phunk, they further infuse into the amber stream minimal, yet invaluable, drops of stashed water. Pure as phunk, they advance the conquest. Imbue in the brownish lava more of the liquid poured ever so generously. Further dissolving amalgamation. Creamy is its color. The Sun smiles.

Branchstylingly, the trees, like ancient bards, stand still, as if telling the stories of the climes bygone. Of the vibes received, absorbed, sent. A gentle breeze rising from the the soft, green surfaces embroidered with inscribed filigrane veins. The gentle breeze spreads. Purpleorange is the color.

Q : Egomaniac as I am, i hereby assert the power of counterriting, my dear fellowcyborgs!

A : We are not robozombies!

The Sun smiles. The gentle breeze spreads. It’s a warm, emerald night by the river. Glowcicles from the water surfaces have evaporated into the streams of the breezy, branchstyling messages. Amber solidifies, firmly attached on the supporting bark. As if the world were populated by zillions of isolated looks exuding the restlessness of a bird’s wings. As if the whole world were inhabited by frozen movements of all the mollicules halted in an attempt to reach out to the neighboring ones. The Sun smiles.

Crystalline is the color of the frozen moment. Fiery is the feary eye. Scarce, yet powerful, is the stashed, purifying water dripping from the undercurrent rhizomorphic web. Raising its voice. Moving gently now. In the everprotective dark greenery of the warm night by the river. Like branchstylingly. Counterrites.

Q : Dapoltri!

A : Dapoltri!