Landing Midway
Ra rises, as I've crashed landed amid the rapidly diminishing display of slumber-lights, and the onward rush of daylight, barely missing a lumbering lunar orb on my downward path. Minutes are fleeing the scene before a conscious thought, bounced across neural synapses, manages to lift me from the rattled stupor accompanying my concussed impact. "OOh gggaw. Uh, geeeee...," forcibly heaves up from a clenched gullet, and drags itself across my tongue into the steaming ozone layer of space engulfing a throbbing pate. Lazy lids seem seamed together in rebellious deference to cerebral alerts for assessment of damages accompanied by conspiring defiance from musculoskeletal remains feigning paralysis. Another lapse of measured moments, and the first revelations of perception enter as topsy-turvy images cast on retinal walls, instantly interpreted by dizzied cells attempting to create a translation and elicit a reaction from this grounded lump. Resistance is the first to retort, a