a short tone-poem of the ice age
Let's go back a few thousand years, to
when glaciers ruled. Winter was a very
serious matter back then; something to
live through until life was reborn in
Spring. This was the age of the truly
silent night. Except, of course, for
the sounds of the glaciers. I sit here
in my inadequately heated house trying
to imagine the groaning of the moving
ice; the terrifying sounds of a piece
the size of a small town breaking
off. Just a silent night is hard to
imagine sometimes, around here.
There are only a couple of samples
in this fat pig that I didn't at
least make over. Playing with sound
is too much fun :(
with a variety of sounds,
including subsonic rumbles
that we can not hear.
Did the woolly mammoths
also speak this way,
and did they sing
with the glaciers?
Or did the glaciers
teach them to speak?
Surely they must have
heard the mighty groans
of the mountains of ice
that slowly moved across
my big bad drum
What did they think --
it was the Voice of God?