Friends At The Table

The Telluric Vulgate // The Independent Hymnal// Chant of Arrival   In orbit broad, aloft in black He floated through the sea. With gasping voice he sang to us In Independent key.   Our island Earth near paradise, Astray without Divine. We led Him home, we mended Him Under the shade of pine.   His face distraught, His heart betrayed, He crooned a tale of woe: Deceptive soul, with clever words She set the Exile low.   "I never sought to save our flesh. My oracles did see A future lacking Divine breath. My aim is to save thee."   A promise, snapped, of life and death. A vow she did outgrow. And with those words, she turned His kin. Then blood and oil and snow.   Divines reduced to Cadent pawns. Whole schools brought into line. This was no fight that He could win. Now foe, once palatine.   In orbit broad, aloft in black Left to be cold debris. We brought you Home and now we Know Your Independent plea.   This week on Twilight Mirage: godspeed, glory Pt. 3 I let go of my claim on you Breaux'sL./Luna7University/Cou