Echo: I am directing my course to starboard.
Alfa: I have a diver down; keep well clear at slow speed.


This is my goodbye.

The artificial clouds have flown.
The mechanical vultures are circling,
while the flesh-ridden humming birds,
are all but silenced.

Our green trees are gone,
as the rivers cease their singing.
And our mother, left with nothing,
but the sweet peace of violence.

Our ears, eternally ringing,
our shadows, forever cast.
As our eyes adjust to the light,
we witness a dance, not a riot.

A dance of the un-living;
hear the thunder of the blast.
The wreckage starts to sway,
to the sound of the quiet.

This is my goodbye.

Echo Alfa

1. birth/childhood  
2. teen
3. mid life (interlude)
4. death
5. afterlife 

Normac