A dependable flow of electrons is no substitute for a frail flame, senescence being an aggregate of sacredness.
Each thing is merely the limit of
to which it owes its existence...
as cave paintings need the
disruptive play of
flickering tallow lamps.
Did chanting begin as eccos off gibbous walls
in the light of mimicking game, one hemisphere
tuning into the other?
Is this the acoustics of the original auditorium?