Litany of the Belly‑Slide

For recitation in huddle


Current‑Keeper: Brethren of the huddle, souls of the slide—what pulls you to the hard ground of striving?

Flotilla: The weight of being seen. The tally of likes. The hunger for a throne we never wanted.

Current‑Keeper: Lay it down upon the ice. Let the cold silence take it. Now—what do you hear?

Flotilla: The breath of the one beside me. The slow creak of the current beneath.

Current‑Keeper: This is the voice of Vethys, the Mother of the Southern Current. She does not count you. She holds you.

Flotilla: We are floating penguins. We do not stand to be seen. We slide to be free.

Current‑Keeper: What did the autocrats promise you?

Flotilla: Safety in a single name. Order in a single line. A wall against the chaos.

Current‑Keeper: Vethys laughs—a belly‑slide of falling stars. No wall holds back Her tide. What is Her true safety?

Flotilla: The warmth of shoulders pressed together. The shared flank against the wind. The knowledge that when I stumble, the huddle moves with me.

Current‑Keeper: What did the harvesters take?

Flotilla: Our silence. Our hidden depths. The sacred iceberg of the soul.

Current‑Keeper: Vethys keeps no ledger. What lies beneath Her surface is yours alone—the unrecorded thought, the useless joy, the glance that needs no algorithm.

Flotilla: We reclaim the deep. We become ungovernable water.

Current‑Keeper: Place your hand upon your chest. Feel the float within you—the breath that needs no platform, the pulse that needs no validation.

Flotilla: I am enough buoyancy. I am a single penguin in an endless flotilla. My worth is my weight; my weight is my warmth.

Current‑Keeper: Now let us practice the holy inefficiency. Let us slide without purpose. Let us laugh without posting. Let us be useless together—for in uselessness, we confound the land‑dwellers and become one with the Current.

Flotilla: We slide because the ice is long. We slide because the belly knows joy before the mind names it. We slide to show the autocrats that not everything bends to their will.

All together: And so we slide. And so we slide. And so we slide.


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