As my life’s end draws closer, I review my life through thoughts organised into symbol sets that many of my tiny species’ members could comprehend.

But the storm that reorganises life on this part of the planet cannot speak a word.

I cannot tell you what I know because what I know has no words.

Untranslatable.

And that’s too bad (“that” being the Internet which cannot express life in real terms, only limited communications in the forms our species is familiar with (and various species partially understand in their unique ways)).

My sister and I sense/see/speak without words. I believe that Monica and I did, too. Very few people have I encountered who’ve communicated with me in like manner.

The moments in between are dry deserts of abject loneliness.

Do i object?

It is the only life this body has known.

Comfortable in the relative silence of an atmospheric disturbance, a natural phenomenon as regular as a lifetime partner’s sleeping/breathing patterns.

All I’ll ever know. Silented SETI listening stations, religion-based persecution/discrimination, intelligence/military leadership swaps and child slavery the forgotten wallpaper of the life I share with you.

The invisible hermit returns to his home unpowered by nuclear technology…humless.

May take a few days to watch my species continue digging an early grave for the current civilisation before I write here again…

If I could simply/easily tell you how …

But it makes so little difference to the galaxy that it hardly seems worth explaining what you already know in your wordless thoughts.

“This, too, shall pass.”