sunlight streams into the morning, casually news from afar accompanies it, riots, demonstrations, family in distress, nervous and worried about the state of eurabria and what they face.
'history is a pattern, leave,' i suggest, 'better to die on your feet than on your knees to the black sun.'
'they are everywhere, it's incredible.'
'yep, everywhere, in all shapes all guises, some were probably your friends once upon a time.'
'we have no friends here.'
'then at least you know who the enemy is.'
'is this what it comes down to?'
'for us i guess. it's the darkness coming for light. you can't ignore the facts, it makes you part of the problem.'
'what do they want?'
'they want your light.'
the line goes dead and part of me goes dead to. 
i wander around mission control thinking about how detached i can be from the hideous reality of the global mass mess, fuck them, humanity is over rated anyway. if the zombies don't get you, ebola might, how many horsemen do you need? one's fucking enough!
my little pocket of paradise, coloured birds fly in for breakfast, lorikeets, crows, lyre birds and king parrots. i feed them some seeds, the water dragons run to me in their cartoon animation, legs flaying out. vibrant colours of life fill the garden, pan watches a kookaburra who is perched upon a tree stump. i find it hard to look out at the carnage, it upsets me, the vacant tragedy, soon they will come for the stumps.
even here, there is carnage of sorts, if you were a bird it would be hell, environmental catastrophe. 
mission control offers safe haven, they come, they know. captain mission of australia, don't have the same ring to it as francis of assisi but what the hell. it's a safe house for the homeless creatures of the world.
we all bask in the morning light.