Out in the ocean a massive blue beast swims, crying to be heard. The last of its kind.

But we have lost our empathy and with it our ability to hear others. To read the organic interface of the tenalach .

So the harmonics it broadcasts across a thousands of miles through multitude of oceans remain deaf to our ears.

The irony the ‘dumb beast’ does not cry because it is the last of its kind, because of all those it has lost, but because it has something to share.

It hums for what it seeks to show us all, the beauty that is deep in its platter, deep in all of us.  For that was its 42. It tulips falling over blue.

But were so busy listening to ourselves, chatter and chimping ooks, the noise pollution made when a monkey becomes so clever he values guns and lawyers over trees, Egotistical primitive fear of the snake remains shallowly hidden behind fake polarising courage. Were so excited in our heads, we forgot to listen to our heart. In doing so we have lost more than the apple in the garden. More than we will ever understand for all our knowledge.

Now its gone and only when were faced with the same face of extinction, the tears of what could have been, will we cry for other, understand what the earth’s big blue floating thalamus knew better than we knew ourselves.

Why does the talking monkey struggle to understanding the why? The one true harmonic, the universal program of computer earth. A noisy opera so transparent that surely even the anaptic can sense it with the dullest propreoception. And yet we clever monkey can’t process the most basic of codes for all our artificial thinking.