-
- High in Chinese mountains and on the border with Tibet,
a team of archeologists were conducting digs, it's said. The routine exploration
of a set of linking caves was detailed and scientific -- when they came
upon some graves. The graves, arranged so neatly, were to yield what portends
. . . yet another haunting mystery -- did it happen? Bet it did.
-
- The graves gave up their contents, and the men just stood
aghast. Their mouths were hanging open for credulity was cast! Within these
graves the bones were *strange* -- perhaps some kind of ape?!? The heads
too large, the bones too small, and tiny (?!) -- how they gaped! "Ape
men" was a silly stretch, these scientists were seasoned -- what kind
of ape will BURY dead? They HAD to come to reason.
-
- And then it was they found the *stones*, and what *ape*
crafted these? Tiny hieroglyphics spun in spirals one could see. How like
a "stone age gramophone", they thought, and were to say, but
that was nineteen thirty-eight, and this is present day. Twelve thousand
years had passed to dust from times too dark and fabled. The disks of stone
were ancient, too explicably mislabeled. Even those who had them had no
clue what they were for -- dismissed as cultish objects, they are locked
in Chinese drawers.
-
- The plates resemble records that a *caveman* would have
played, a big hole in the center and the spiraled tight display. The glyphs
display like feathers of a paranormal bird as they fan imagination in the
way that they've been curved. There's nothing, then, quite like the way
that they were crafted out. There is the plate of Lollidof (another Dropa
shout!), which COULD be serendipity if there is a GRAIN of truth, but this
just won't be talked about, so some can stay aloof.
-
- For YEARS the disks are studied, and they vex the greatest
minds. The Chinese keep it to themselves not knowing what they'll find.
They ARE so *strangely* puzzled; it's compelling, so bizarre, 'till finally
they DO crack it (!), and we see just where we are. The contents are so
shattering, tumultuous, and sincere that the lid is clamped upon them and
they're silenced by the fear! Ridiculed, at present, by our sacrosanct
*elite*, these are stories that inflame the mind, but for SOME demand retreat.
-
- Dr. Tsum (?) (our brave code breaker) likely opted for
discussion. He saw the different paradigms in a burst of light's concussion?
For years he argues quietly (he would fear the prison camp?), but then
Peking decided. They would light that secret's lamp! The year, by now,
was sixty-five, and I was still in school; a green-eared lad of fifteen
years, a sophomore . . . a fool <g. But I remember vaguely in a paper
from a friend . . . which spoke of Chinese UFO's -- that "Dropa"
word again. And today in nineteen ninety-nine, I see that word once more,
and the story (plus some pictures!) rather put me through the floor.
-
- It WAS twelve thousand years ago, and from the trackless
sky . . . descends a *ship* in trouble -- call it fable, myth, or lie.
They land, contact the people, called the Ham (they lived in caves). Some
are slaughtered for their trouble, and so end their hapless days. They're
hunted down on horseback, "gaunt and yellow" -- not like men.
Their *ugliness* transcends belief -- stranger *strangers* . . . sans some
friends. Some must live to make it known that they are quite sincere, have
peaceful, kind intentions -- and are really not that queer. They mix genetic
*essence* with the people of the Ham. Those folks, today (?) -- anomalous,
unexplained . . . a mystery, Sam. The "plates"? They're still
the mystery, their construction isn't plain. Containing too much cobalt,
and by *wattage* marked and stained. Electrical components would be "scarred"
in such a way, and the plates have *other* properties. They hum when spun
they say. In sum a scary story, or a message from the past, that it's true
-- we're not IN Kansas, and the secret's out at last.
-
- Just another cruel enigma, wrapped in years of crass
denial? The plates contest *reality*, so a look is NOT worthwhile? And
we don't look, we ridicule, and mock, or smirk -- or worse, we're back-step
dancing shufflers -- it's no blessing; it's a curse. A curse of shallow
sightlessness, and a waste of useful talent, a choice for all the worst
ideas -- the short view's selfish challenge. But for them we'd live . .
. tall lives in space . . . in constructs that we made, respecting individuals,
and the TEAMS that they would make! Satisfaction so achievable that it's
in the air you breath, respect that's so forthcoming you can chew it with
your teeth. Freedom that's decided as the common right of birth, education's
focus is "you make your *own* choice", Burt! You're given information
which might change the way you feel, and you buy in, the choice is YOURS
. . . you strike an honored deal.
-
- Lehmberg@snowhill.com
-
- Pronounced *drohzz-pa*.
-
- ~~Ö~~ EXPLORE Alfred Lehmberg's Alien View"
at his Fortunecity URL. http://www.fortunecity.com/roswell/arecibo/46/
**<Updated 18 December**
-
- "I cleave the heavens, and soar to the infinite.
What others see from afar, I leave far behind me." - Giordano Bruno,
burned at the fundamentalist's stake.
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