Deep Rhythm is not for you.
On autumn mornings, the dead blue clouds in the foreground over the golden-blue sunrise can be more impressive than the death of a day – but you won’t want to know this.
Hundreds of the evolved stand in a line around the poison lake, at attention, moving slowly forward in a circle to the cave where they start and end, holding out their hands, giving and receiving. Slag heap denizens shudder forward from the mire of the past and grasp at the ankles of the forward-thinkers. Half of the evolved go down with the time; the others, gravitating towards the entangled embrace of space-time, get elevated and feel the Deep Rhythm in their souls.
The lake gets smaller, the circle becomes a spiral, the line shortens, until one remains – a giver. He gives his soul to the next universe and eats what is left of all things.
And the Deep Rhythm ends – for now.