Bumrush the Future My Troff Feeders

Animals of the feeding troff!

Look over here now.

You’re not a vegetable in the garden.

Mammal spirit’s got no roots that can’t be relaid.

Pull yourselves up and walk about as was intended by the quick that grows your nails.

Slap your face with rushing mountain waters, there’s magic in motion.

Ain’t a sin to mutate. Ain’t a crime to mix with mud and run with a coyote clan.

Look to the sky and shout your tears wailing high over clouds to gold. Howl thy belly out to moon and stars.

Canis latrans persists in navigating shattered landscapes and enemies galore. And so can you, bucket feeder!

Gaze over ocean’s breadth. Peer at the Bur marigold of Eurasia floating in the distance over the seas. It lives a temperate life. It spreads its seed wide. For even the unmoving things of Earth are movers.

Spread wide, animals of the troff! Cease not your youthful yearnings of discovery. Adventure is your forward motivator. Desire, your catalyst to insight.

Collecting, staying, hoarding — these are bad habits most demeaning to nature. Nature grows when all are in fluid motion like electrons’ spirit dancing.

Be everything, troff licker, at every time everywhere. NOW. For your inaction is tantamount to genocide!

Bumrush our future.

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