The Twelve Loops of Goodbye The fluid rises. The cryo-hiss is deafening. And then... the program starts. Twelve times. The system cycles, and twelve times I see you. It starts the same. The image freezes in the dark. It’s you, BK. Or... It’s your idea. You’re wearing the rig. The goggles are locked on me. I try to say your name, but my mouth is filled with ice. I love you. God, I love you. But you don’t blink. The Neural Glitch. Something is wrong. The memory corrupts. I see "corrupted code" trying to stabilise across your face. Your eyes... behind the lenses... they twitch. Microscopically. Are you hurting? Or is that my pain rippling through the connection? A low-frequency pulse warps your skin. You look like a stranger. You look like the machine. The Shuddering Breath. This is the one that breaks me. Total stillness. Then... a faint mist forms at your mouth. Condensation beads on the goggles. I scream at you to breathe! Just breathe! But it’s slow. Irregular. It’s a ...
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In a city where old sorrows dwell
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Elara's Virgil: Eyes of Fire
Verse 1:
Elara stands in shadows deep, an alley's maze where secrets seep.
The lamps they flicker, casting spells, in a city where old sorrows dwell.
With eyes that blaze through night’s despair, she holds the weight of history's care.
Chorus:
In the heart of the city, where darkness falls,
Elara walks, heedless to the calls.
A guardian bold, with destiny's chain,
To protect the lost, through joy and pain.
Verse 2:
Elara roams through ancient streets, where cobblestones beneath her feet,
Echo tales of times long gone, in the moon's pale, ghostly dawn.
Her strength, a beacon in the gloom, her spirit, defies the looming doom.
Chorus:
In the heart of the city, where darkness falls,
Elara walks, heedless to the calls.
A guardian bold, with destiny's chain,
To protect the lost, through joy and pain.
Verse 3:
In the whispers of the night, Elara’s steps are bold, upright.
Description:
Elara standing in a dark, gritty alleyway, looking determined and fierce. The alley is dimly lit by flickering streetlights, capturing the tense and dramatic essence of a Greek tragedy.
A powerful image of Elara, a fierce urban guardian, patrolling the ancient city at night. The scene is filled with shadows and historic buildings under a glowing moon, reflecting her strength and determination.
The opening verse introduces Elara as she walks through the shadowy streets of the ancient city at night, her fate intertwined with her duty to protect.
Lyrics:
In the heart of the city, where shadows loom,
Elara walks, beneath the moon.
Guardian strong, with a fate so dire,
Bound to protect, with hearts on fire.
Keywords:
Elara, urban guardian, city at night, shadows, ancient buildings, glowing moon, strong, determined, protector, Greek tragedy night patrol, heart of the city, shadows loom, beneath the moon, guardian strong, fate,
Alt Text:
Elara, a fierce urban guardian, walking in the heart of the city at night, surrounded by shadows and ancient buildings under a glowing moon.
This artwork is protected by U.S. and International copyright laws. Distribution and/or modification of the artwork without written permission of the sponsor is prohibited.
Creation doesn’t save. Art stabilises. That’s why art continues after belief has died. Not because it promises something— But because consciousness cannot stop itself. The will to create isn’t heroic. It’s involuntary. A reflex. The art of futility A spoken monologue I don’t make art because it matters. I make it because consciousness produces excess. And excess demands release. That’s the first lie we’re taught—that art points toward truth. Truth doesn’t need us. It existed before our gestures and will remain after our silence. Art isn’t revelation. It’s a regulation. An overdeveloped mind can’t remain idle. Thought accumulates. Pressure builds. Expression becomes a discharge—not a message. This isn’t noble. It’s biological. Paintings. Texts. Sounds. Images. All variations of the same maneuver. Not transcendence . Containment . Once you see this, ambition collapses. Influence. Legacy . Relevance. These are metaphysical debts art can no longer pay. The work is finished the mome...
Situation - The Tempest’s Reflection JB , a spaceship pilot, has been placed into a cryo cocoon to revive and transform his life essence. Inside the cocoon, he experiences his mind as a "relentless tempest of clashing thoughts, swirling and churning, mirroring the furious chaos outside of the machine." JB also sees his older self trapped in the same transitory state. The Storm in my Looking Glass A cinematic close-up of JB’s face behind the curved glass of the cryo-cocoon . The glass reflects not the room but a "relentless tempest" of swirling dark clouds and lightning , symbolising his churning thoughts. In the storm's reflection, a ghostly older version of JB is visible, trapped and silent, mirroring the pilot's current state. Cryogenic Rejuvenation Chamber - Night This trapped specter is the true mirror of our pilot's current, suspended state: a mind caught between two ages, the man he was refusing to be silenced, terrified of the man he is about to ...
Chrysalis This isn’t a tomb It’s a chrysalis . We aren’t being buried We’re being rewritten. Be Creative and Innovative with Knowledge John Bennett - AKA JJFBbennett , is an independent artist. You can view and subscribe to my work via Blogger , YouTube , Flicker , Facebook , Instagram and Deviant Art . Subscribe to JJFBbennett's private FB hub: https://www.facebook.com/share/g/18ythpSXPZ/ You can subscribe to my music via YouTube Music , Spotify , iTunes, Apple Music and Soundcloud To support my art, feel free to donate via JJFBbennett through PayPal If you want to acquire JJFB's art creations as an NFT - John's Opensea NFT profile is https://opensea.io/JJFBbennett Copyright This artwork is protected by U.S. and International copyright laws . Distribution and/or modification of the artwork without the written permission of the sponsor is prohibited.
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