(no subject)
Sep. 24th, 2009 09:03 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nnySirens
Her people tread lighter upon her ground, worn weary and wasted-thin.
Over time, medical sensors grew sirens grown silent (though even her sirens were beauty-designed) and safety is sought now among distant stars.
Safety she associates with security and shelter: kept close within her locked doors (her cupped hands). No trace of plague-malfunction in her shield-shell, no siren-song, only silence brushing sensors as the worn-thin ones sleep.
She outlines their safety in endless-shifting numbers; velocity, course calculations and the strength of her shield. And (always unchanging) how many are left to her, how many to be kept in shelter and secure.
(The unchanging anchor her as the shifting cannot.)
But every calculation holds perfection within it, for being what it is, for holding what it promises, for brushing external sensors and light across shields; the safety sought in distant stars becomes different stars, becomes here.
Her safety became security.
Becomes shelter.
Becoming home.
