We knew the end was near and had looked for remote locations for evacuation, the general consensus of opinion was that it had to be remote. High with fast moving clear streams and plenty of dense woodland coverage, a certain valley came to mind, from memory as a child. It flooded me in delirious colour, swimming in breezes.
Contrasts with sun and shade in equal measure, the valley did have a name but in a location I cannot reveal. There were seven of us mimicking the number of Adepts in imagination and study. We had taken this role and put it in our minds to give purity to our mission, as we were to go farther to be hidden, than most would dare to venture.
We the seven had visited our apocalyptic reservation as individuals over many years, building supplies, seeds, vessels and storage, not necessarily the buildings of recognised habitation. More as semi submerged and appropriate camouflage. There would be no family units there, as it would be morally unwise to believe in futures. As such all seven survivors were males of sound mind and varied technical ability, plus we were trained in the procedures of Kundalini ensuring our own spaceship of mind was available to us when the end of time caught up with us, which inevitably it would. As we could occasionally go further away in a skyline, tainted with the mist of virus and the lid of inevitable death. The earth would be clean again for the perceived Alien renewal.
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The Warrior of Poetry: The Poetry archive
The Poetic Warrior Returns to his Poetry after Illness Welcome One, Welcome All