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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’...

Intelligent Systems Fall


Was there was a way to resolve?
Before the slaughter began
If there was a to reconcile?
The living would have fewer martyrs?

Why are the decisions of the few never questioned and made accountable?
And, is it more important to believe than to know?

This base position of recklessness  determines a lasting continuum of falling from, hiding from, excusing and reevaluating known-ness

So the machine keeps propagating
The fallen gave their's so we can have ours
With full adoration and support from the populace
Who have never known to over think
With keeping it simple stupid flattening progressive analysis
Questioning has become demonstratively disrespectful
The most palatable deceptions are those that are thin and moral.
Mantras of nonsense

The predetermined dead fall as expected To reconcile worthlessness the predetermined dead are held up in esteem
Our authoritative must build this destination
Our  authoritative must not self-doubt in hopeless realization
Our authoritative must enter war behind a shield of valor

Death is for the inherent victor to celebrate
And through the making of rational stories
To pathway unleashed grieving to grieving of high regard
Where high regard is steeled by righteousness
Where righteousness can be grafted to the living self
The self as the embodiment of virtue, purpose, and determination.
To be absolved from murderous activity

It is in the nation's endeavor to build symbols of high regard
For the living to hide behind
To build a rich and exulted heritage.
Us who are the righteous.
We as one basking in pride and unquestioned freedom from guilt
The predetermined dead sacrificed to profit the living as in-one as in-holiness

This is the way of the fallen
This is the way of the fallen's people
The bestowed is dead
Dead and ignorant of knowing
The living is dead
Living dead and living ignorant
Behind decorated shields of ceremony, we are symbols of virtue
We the magnificent are secured within unity
To shield our eyes away from the decisions of the few
To closing the door on wasteful killing
We refuse to question our absurd positioning.
This being
This associated identity
These acts of selflessness







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