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Godliness in Stone

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  Scene 1 It smells like… time down here. Not just damp earth or rot, but something older. A primal scent that’s been waiting in the dark for a millennium. I’m recording this at the bottom of the scar somewhere in the anomaly. In my mind, it's called the Necropolis Gully . My helmet is trying to map it—casting these sterile, digital grids over the moss and the stone—but the data doesn’t make sense. It’s glitching. It’s shuddering against the reality of this place. I don't know why I'm here, looking at ruins. Just... debris. But in the ruins, I found the ghosts of a future that never happened. I was walking over shards of polymerised memories . This was once a city.  It was meant to be the heart of a new world that... simply stopped. It wasn't an engineering failure. It was a failure of existence. Holding that slate, I felt this... weight. The grief of the architect. The "wounds of unbuilt dreams." I realised then that this isn't a graveyard for people. It’...
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Godin Connectedness

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Godin Connectedness 
We argued with the vengeance from poorly informed memory.
Straight from the loss to blame.
For whatever reason it perpetuated justification.
Of construeded loss,  from the need to self victimise.
To the need of claiming nothing in particular.
It was the battle to ingrain and embellish memory.
In so, we tore each other apart and to feed individual right.
Our eternal want to be known as right.
The want for immediate anger to surface, rant and to glorify our past glories of being wronged.
And then we rested exhausted.


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