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Does anything truly exist beyond our own mind? We see only what our mind allows, the picture through the foggy lens of fear and hope. I see the best of me, building the temple of a better world, lending a hand to those that still cling to solid ground for fear to Wander the unknown. I see the worst of me, the masks I wear, the moments where I'm raw and cruel and push others away. And all the while she holds me at the edge, I feel her hand in mine, and I see not what I am, but the best that I can be. (1)

There is often a great deal of complexity involved in the process of transferring power. The Skull of Luci is arguably one of the most significant pieces of power which represents The Council. Shown simply here, the skull is passed down and is now ready for the next descendant of power. We are unable to identify the power that receives the skull, demonstrating a deeper meaning behind this lore. It is only a matter of time before the meaning of this symbolism is unveiled. (1)

Stories around the campfire aren’t read, they’re told. The ones we remember are not merely words voiced one after the other, but experiences the teller creates. They can’t be contained or bound by characters. So gather around, close your eyes, and journey with me to a realm beyond. Here is a piece of myself. Listen as I share with you all that MY eyes see: www.laurael.com/luci (1)

The celebrants danced around the bonfire, their bare feet coated in mud. Anointing their faces with blood, bodies were stacked and tossed into the flames as offerings to Luci. Chanting ancient words as the crackling fire roared, its sparks drifting up to the night sky. Shadows flickered around their faces, cast by the roaring pyre. The crowd watched reverently, believing the ritual would summon Luci to dance forth another year of light and life for their people. (1)

Civilization is unbearable, but it is less unbearable at the top. Learning how to operate a soul figures to take time. Science is all metaphor. When our systematic knowledge of human expressive behavior is more advanced, it will be possible to study the literary and historical documents of the past and to determine the expressed and implied views of personality that determined the behavior of our ancestors. Turn on, Tune in, Drop out. Think for yourself and question authority. (1)

The world Luci inhabits is filled with perils and horrors. Perhaps this is a reflection of our own world, or at least I believe it is. But what happens between the moments of terror? Like all of us, is Luci searching for a way to escape, even if just for a moment? This spot, chosen with care, is where Luci slept, escaping the world for a brief moment to have an adventure in Nothingland. https://luci-in-nothingland.xyz (1)

The tribal call beckons, a plea in the midst Of decadence and decay in the lingering mist The cinder’s smoke dances, our carnal delight A pain unmasked, a degeneration’s plight From the muck we’re born, from the ashes we build A monument to the sky, a whole unfilled A yearning for freedom, we long once more As darkness creeps in, we beg for yore A tribal call beckons, a roar on high The end of the ages, a last goodbye A purpose unfelt, we pray for the rain And when silence falls, only our stories remain (1)

I sit in this room, all alone. I peer out into the world that is filled with connection and destruction. Luci offers me a glimpse into what the world was, is, and could be. I sit here alone in this room and watch as the world passes by, with or without me. I observe pain and hope, together. I long for what could be. Yet here I am, stuck in this room. Part of me knows I can be out there. The other part knows it wasn't built for me. A journey into Luci is a journey into ourselves. Alas, I observe. (1)

The ceaseless remolding of all life on earth is only visible through vast godlength[.eth] perspectives of time. Or, 3 drops deep at the zoo. That day was a final contraction in the Birth of Luci. All caged forms, mere vessels, turned liquid & fungible. The lion, the bear: both apex predator shapes in the tempest soup they swim. The zoo: a pause button to the churning. Sam & I slipped under the zoo, where all edges goop and the physical unravels. It is both birth and death. Old Sam died so Luci could be born (1)

does my liFe arise from my actions? the consciousness exploRes all its possibilities. i stand nakEd. we arE him. he is consciousness. is he real? he must know every corner of himself. his simulation rendered. torn fragments of his love set free, they must Wander. suffering's touch, he sees, but he must know: sublime joy, the horrIfic darkness. he must Let them choose, learn, fail, love, kill. he watches closeLy, every emotion, every tear. they are him. they will return; he will know. he is (1)

All this sorrow, eagerness and betrayal of our innermost self. Endless roars & panic, echoing in the valley of our past. Years upon decades of seeking the Tao, only to end up in a constant loop hoping to turn the right stone. Is this real? Or is everything an illusion to guide us across the turbulent land? Perhaps the stone we seek to turn is where our path began. We shall remain here, within these city walls, and bind our truths once again. For in our home is all we need, and the spark which reunites us. (1)

Faded petals descend, a suffocating quilt of decay. Aspirations violently consumed by veils of darkness. Insidious illness seeps deeply into foundations. Roots mercilessly torn, shattered and broken. Sinewy arms outstretch, an intimate embrace of defeat. Unmasked on earth’s altar. Love remains. Begin again, wounds and all. Decay yields to new seeds of faith. Spite the body and commit to give fully. Bound through monuments of marble. Strip away the pretense and performance, expose light. Love remains. (1)

Amidst the lively chatter of a group, i walk alone, quietly against the backdrop of laughter and camaraderie. My footsteps are purposeful, the rhythm of someone immersed in the day's tasks. The group's conversation barely wavered, a brief moment of acknowledgment before I continued with my life. (1)

Oedipus's encounter with his mother carries a potent blend of curiosity and foreboding. As their eyes meet, a palpable tension unfurls. His gaze, seeking answers, inadvertently reveals an unspoken connection. The air thickens with a mix of recognition and unease, a momentous collision of fate and the human desire to understand it. Oedipus's searching eyes mirror his inner turmoil, torn between the past and an uncertain future. In that charged instant, the veil of ignorance flutters, hinting at truths both p (1)

Amidst the clamor and chaos sits a pure spirit. A boy, unexposed to the intricacies of life. Fixated only on what is within an arm's reach. The mask is a mirror. It replies to the boy’s curious eyes. Promethean chants echo from his ancient past into his adolescent mind. The mask is an aperture. He holds it up to peer through. The empire on the other side beckons. Flesh is torn, blood is drawn. He has heard murmurs of Luci by the campfire. Pain prompts growth, dominion demands sacrifice. (1)

"Look. Parallel worlds and The Wander between. Stories passed down. Wisdom lost and found. Allegories remain as skulls turn to dust. Inescapable cycles of decomposition. Beginning, middle, and end. Then begin again. Look deeper. Ascend to the root. A tapestry of tangled masks and masses speaking in currents. Enlightened and corrupted. Fractals of chaos, fire. Fuse to survive. Fuse and self dies. Tell me what is real. What do you see?" "I see you. Amidst it all, You are all that is real to me." (1)

To my beloved children,Wojtek & Julia,my lights: It's 2023,humanity's state echoes in Sam's masterpiece. Should you ever find yourself in that realm, with mind scrolling through wants and needs,where hopes and fears construct your very existence, remember There is only now and each moment conceals a hidden gem. The only way we can endure our pain is to let it be painful. You already have everything you truly need. Find joy in growth. breathe Fearlessly take off your masks. Look at the sky. Begin The Wander (1)

In the mind of someone contemplating jumping from a roof, a maelstrom of emotions and thoughts churn. The weight of despair seems unbearable, pushing them to the edge. Loneliness wraps around like a suffocating shroud, while pain, both emotional and perhaps physical, feels insurmountable. Amidst the darkness, fleeting moments of doubt and longing for connection emerge, like faint stars in a cloudy night. The mind oscillates between a desire for an end to the agony and a wish for a lifeline to pull them back (1)

Am I not great, here on my pedestal? Come! Lower your heads and approach! In this chaos, I offer warmth and succour. Do you crave the old times? No, we must embrace this future. I will show you the way and keep you safe. I have the gift of fire. I have the gift of warmth. I have the gift of love. Do not weep, take my hand. Feel its strength. It does not tremble. For this is what I do. Lower your heads. (1)

L’Origine du Monde Creator of every living creature Am I the past, the present, or the future? Intertwined & tied at the root, woven together I look around, Luci, can you see me? Mother of peace and chaos I birthed angels & demons My body fed the infant & the beast One is Love, the other a Son of a gun Heavy are my breasts, equally my burden This morning, I bathed in the sacred water In silence, I gave my blood to the river The ultimate sacrifice I dared to offer To keep the good apple away from the bitter (1)

Below Empire, a canvas unfolds Stories of others, & futures foretold Where creation meets chaos, I stand at the base The Mark of the Father seen on my face Within the Tree's node, I stand with my love A lily in hand, new life from above But just past Eve, violent waters of temptation call Upon its banks, carnal desires enthrall Once lost, I lived such a labyrinthine way Danced the Hive's rhythm, a heart in decay Though I woke myself up and now walk Sienna Road I know its a long one, or so I am told (1)

She is Hewan, or as the world knows her: Eve. She is the first woman in the world and the first mother. As she holds the forbidden fruit behind her back, she looks on at what our world became since her first sin. Just below, poor souls try to escape the hell they fell into. In the Monument Game, those lost on the pathway to the temple get stuck here in the muck. They are all children of Cain and Able, the violent ones. Luci ድንቅ ነሽ, the physical ancestor of all. Adam and Hewan, the spiritual ancestor of all. (1)

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Artists often utilise self-portraits to convey thoughts, emotions, and identity. In "The Monument Game," Sam’s inclusion of himself and Rachel suggests we're all observers to the unfolding chaos. Also shown by other bystanders taking pictures, observing, and casually mingling at the edges. Yet, Sam and Rachel want to plunge deeper into the chaos, embracing active participation. Sam becomes the conduit, embodying boundless enthusiasm and fascination, proving that he is the ideal medium for this epic. (1)

One man dies whilst the other survives. What their friendship meant will only then be realized. One man makes a great fortune whilst the other continues to struggle in poverty. Their genuine attitudes towards one another and their true friendship will then be confirmed. One man rises in social status whilst the other remains in a lower standing. Their true friendship will then be made obvious. (1)

DEATH BEFORE DISHONOR In such unrest, a spirit unswayed, Where honor and courage are eternally laid, For when the tempest of doubt may arise, The unwavering heart takes to the skies, For death before dishonor stands, A noble creed from distant lands, A vow to rise, unyielding, strong, To right what's been forever wrong. So, observe these wars of fur and feather, A different honor, tied to life's tether, In nature's theatre, where battles roar, Death before dishonor, forevermore. (1)

"Sho-sho ride" my son used to request at the age of 2. His little legs and feet could only carry him so far. Now 2 years later, he clearly articulates his request, "Daddy, could I please have a shoulder ride?" His endearing, unique expressions have given way to a nearly impeccable grammar. Those little fleeting moments slip through our fingers, leaving only memories. I am proud of him and the amazing person he is becoming. Yet occasionally I find myself yearning for one more "sho-sho ride." (1)

Amidst the ruins of a world undone, she stood as a fierce guardian. With the harshness of survival, her love burned brighter, for it was a flame that fueled her actions. Her arms once soft, now bore the scars of battles fought against the remnants of a broken civilization. Her courage blazed like a wildfire. A warrior, a nurturer, a beacon of strength. Her love knew no bounds, for in her, the torch of humanity endured, a testament to the unyielding spirit of a mother in a world forever changed (1)

The Council of Luci observes the players of the Monument Game as they battle it out for greatness and the honor of being placed on the council. The players can't help but think that maybe one day, they too can be on the council, deliberating over the next batch of candidates as the game goes on. (1)

Within life's intricate dance, balance is foundational, nurturing formidable strength. Through balance, arises unyielding strength, infusing life with power. This strength begets an unwavering will, propelling progress. It's this will that fuels motion, purpose, and the world's equilibrium. Building bridges, even human ones, reinforces our need for unity, affirming that collaboration is key to sustaining balance. (1)

सदैव अस्ति, सदैव आसीत् (1)

With a gourd at my breast and a lily of Sharon at my womb I pray for fertility, for the sins of an ancestor are only rectified through the life of a descendant. We have many sins, my dove. We have been born and we have died just as many times. Finding each other again and again in the dark left eye of this ancestral skull, this monument of of earth, cedar, flesh and lore. Look at the fire, my Abraham, into the right eye. Sip of vitality. For when Sodom falls, the season of our bareness will end. (1)

My brother. You are hope, you are love, you are light. I know the chaos and madness that lives inside you is trying to win this fight, but it won't. If you don't want to be the person you were yesterday, you don't have to be. You can make the choice to change, today. Fight today. You will face some demons, but just know that I am here, and I will fight with you. You are strong. Worthy. Our parents would be so proud to see how far you have come. I am proud of you. So, let us put the blade down. I love you. (1)

Its as though the momentum game was created by humans as a competition to see who is deemed worthy to be apart of the council. The humans stand and watch like its an attraction at a zoo. They are all holding their smart phones and taking photos and videos to share on social media. This is the what the world has become. Instead of living in the moment and watching it for what it is, we watch it through the screen on our phones. (1)

A post-apocalyptic society! it was my first impression. A central park, skyscrapers, a melting pot! Diversity, cultures, families, stories, crimes, violence, loneliness, violence, love, culture, false leaders and gods. The chaos! A symbolic and perfect choice to the Monument Game. Luci represents our unshakable faith in the quest to challenge ourselves, evolve and make mistakes in an endless cycle. We are alone! We are surrounded! Who am i? What is my purpose? What is the meaning of life? Oh Luci... (1)

In a secluded glade, where ancient rituals were whispered and the memory of Luci lingered, a majestic white wolf laid in peace gripping a skull between its legs. A symbol of old power and the legacy of the council. The skull of Luci was said to hold secrets, ones that melded love and bitterness, past and future. As the moon cast eerie shadows, the wolf's eyes gleamed with knowledge. The destiny tied to the dance of the wold, the skull, and the enigma of Luci. (1)

A smartphone picture of surroundings. This astutely contrasts modernity with primitiveness, highlighting the distressing erosion of native indigenous customary rights, reduced to a spectacle for the affluent. This juxtaposition invites introspection on societal dynamics, transcending time, evoking profound reflection regarding ethical and civilizational disparities, the consequences of progress and the value of ancient wisdom and compels us to confront uncomfortable truths beneath our civilization's veneer. (1)

On Power Fuck the world. The sorrows are plenty and sadly my efforts to defend myself always seem futile. It never wants me to find solutions, just to suffer.I believe life is more than that, though the patterns of life don’t seem to agree. I sleep and fight, to eat and fight, just to do it all over again. I’m exhausted. But not dead. Others are foolishly blind.They are not free and neither am I. They don’t know. (1)

"I don't want to be here anymore." (1)

“I’m in, let’s go. It looks a little wild, but I think we can make it." (1)

"Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?" (1)

Botticelli’s Venus. Commissioned by de' Medici, she embodies Virtuous Humanitas. A symbol of a lost civilization? Why does she resonate within me? Nurtured devoid of a masculine compass, I see women as guides - mothers, sisters, lovers. They who precede us, casting light upon our journey and guiding our ascent. Yet, they may betray, elude us, and we, in vain, try to chase them. A lover, fortune, or life itself, Sam? What enigma lies in the stone she’s hiding, Sam? Why do I remain slumped in the river, Sam? (1)

In war's darkest hours, life persists. Everyone was once a baby, born in joy or strife. A newborn's cry, even on battle's edge, is hope's pure voice echoing. 'Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you,' declares the Lord. Each birth, a divine spark amid chaos, reflects God's enduring love, plan, a reminder of peace's promise, a call to our higher selves, a symbol of faith. (1)

Is this me ? Am I the coward hiding in the tree ? Just a shell of what I could be. So afraid of what the world will see. (1)

Hope & Despair is embodied in this child unbothered by the turmoil that surrounds. Hope of unlimited potential inside this child, that it may be the key to salvation of this world, that it will bring great pride to the name it carries. Despair that it is born into a rapidly inhospitable world that may not be worth living for. The fears that I may unfairly lay upon it, or not be enough for the child. But within the chaos, one can build a world of hope surrounded with loving support, and maybe that is enough. (1)

This is my cage. My anxieties. Flaming walls of indecision. A miry slag of worry polluted with others' disapproval. Plumes of despair that sweetly whisper of soul-destroying compliance, surrender and suicide. Have dominion? What a joke! No, this is just surviving the chaos within and I am a Player achingly close to falling yet clinging to what Self remains. What will my Monument, my identity, become? Will I live in dismal conformity? Or will Risk be the play? And free, self-defining vitality, the victory. (1)

We forget we can even take the mask off. This mask has provided security and structure amongst the chaos. This mask has been a distraction from questions with unknown answers. But the mask no longer strongly shields my thoughts of an inevitable future. It is up to me to remove these dependencies on the mask and with it my anxieties of what is to come. It is time to live in the now and take in the beauty of each moment. Respecting the future while melting into the remaining embraces of my daughters (H&H). (1)

Wake up, Luci. Is this progress? Is this the vision you had for us when we emerged from the muck? For generations, we've gazed at the same sky, but somewhere in our past, we lost our identity Masks, worn so long, mesh with flesh Community, once corrupt becomes an inescapable hell Monuments built, masked with deceit, memorialize humanity's darkness, our true light hidden behind those masks Wake up, Luci. Take off your mask. And let the true beauty of humanity shine Wake up, Luci… (1)

GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR. KING KONG can't stop ME!!!!! So let me sing-a-song of the RESIN you SPEAK. Shhhhhhhhh....Close your eyes, and don't PEEK. Open your heart, and FOLLOW ME. I'll protect your FOREVER you'll SEE. :-) (1)

Amid the remnants of the old world, the foundations of a new one quietly take shape. For most, it lurks unseen, obscured by screens that commandeer our lives. Yet for those who lift their tired heads and dare to stray from preordained paths, a new domain awaits – fierce, untamed, defiant. To find it, cast off the fear that stifled your voice. Think bold. Step forward into unbound potential. From the embers of your past, a new self arises. Have courage, my friend, for this journey has just begun. (1)

Behind the veil of perception, a revelation dawns. The mask gazes upon us, a twisted observer in this macabre theater. We are but pawns in its eerie game, marionettes dancing to its haunting rhythm. As we leave our thoughts, it devours our essence, an insatiable hunger for the stories we bare. Remember, it's not our eyes that pry, but the mask's grim visage fixated on our essence—a spectral voyeur of our tales. (1)

Fire, energy of the gods, Man stealing their hidding lore. Dust of stars, hand of light, Man becomes creator, disrupter of the night. Titans of a bygone era are now birds, Man becomes a god, a swallower of worlds. "The Brain of a Primate and the Technology of a God" (1)

Those who find their way to the Temple of Luci are being welcomed with yellow fabric scraps in the air. Yellow in this context symbolizes positivity, enlightenment, intellect, and a new beginning. It takes a toll on yourself to persevere in the quest of life. But where is risk there is also reward. Love yourself and those around you, believe in your goals, be persistent. Who knows, you may also end up at your own Temple of Luci. (1)

In the crucible of uncertainty, where the threads of fate intertwine, stands the formidable juncture of a difficult decision. Do I sacrifice a piece of myself for something much larger? It's a heart-pounding dance between hope and apprehension. The weight of the choice casts a shadow upon the mind, each option a path unraveled. It's a battle waged within; do I put on this mask and join my fellow brethren? For in the crucible of difficult decisions, we forge the very fabric of our existence. (1)

Either we're passive viewers to the world's demise or active contributors to its revival. (1)

​​The future is not worth fighting for. And I refuse to believe that There is goodness among us. Although it is difficult to comprehend, Violence and chaos are inescapable. I cannot be convinced that A single individual can make a difference. Instead, it is much better to assume It is hopeless to combat acts of evil. And it would be unwise to conclude I can be a positive change in this world. (Now read from bottom to top) (1)

In this world of chaos, I've always relied on the Holy Books for guidance. Scripture tells me to love, serve, and build up, but my foolish mind tries to justify a life of greed, laziness, and rebellion. Must I sacrifice myself for the greater good? Can I sit idly, eating and drinking? Or shall I plunder and destroy? I know what the answer is, but my inner self struggles to live by Heaven's instructions. I am constantly torn. I must always remind myself, "Resist temptation, and do what is right. Do good." (1)

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tastes of mud and swine in the bloodied mouth of a youth heavy fist of the violent blind alone to face with you remedies to old scars angel dust or prescribed talismans just don't go so far as to reach heaven even excess couldn't get you to take out the splinters a soul can never forget and yours was already a sinner still the son of men shouldn't be buried by its predecessor you found peace, my friend too far for me to answer (1)

Born in the muck and mire among chaos and turmoil, your hearts are pure. An excerpt from the letter I wrote to my son on the day he was born in June of 2020: The world that you will grow up in was broken by those generations before mine, and the people of my generation hurt each other and drew lines in the sand that divided us more than ever. We, all of us before you, cannot fix it. But you and your pure heart can. Of all of the things that I will teach you, perhaps, the most important will be to love. (1)

As the plane soared above the crumbling remnants of their once-beloved home, a mix of emotions swirled within the hearts of those aboard. They had fled from a place that was no longer recognizable, a realm consumed by flames and the suffocating weight of its own sins. Looking out the window, they watched in somber silence as primitive creatures overtook the land below. In the air, a palpable sense of relief mingled with sorrow, for they had chosen to rise above the chaos but towards an uncertain future. (1)

Flags, akin to ancient totems, weave tales of lands and dreams. Separating and uniting us since the dawn of mankind while withstanding the test of time. Serving as the compass within the episodic chronicles of Luci, the blueprint unfurls. The emblem on the flag silently guides through evolving trials, evoking a sense of continuity amidst the ever-changing world. It communicates that we belong, helping us find pockets of community in the melting pot and granting us a profound sense of identity. (1)

In the chaos, Spratt’s strokes merge past with present discord. Figures once carved dance in pixel echoes, glow haunted by their demons. I glimpse my narrative—past and future woven, a journey of self-discovery. Tendrils mimic threads connecting memories. Light and shadow mirror choices, bridging authenticity and illusion. As Spratt’s mastery converges with life’s beauty, human spirit endures in this digital mosaic. Fragmented beauty resonates with my soul, crafting a narrative uniquely mine, symphonically (1)

As civilizations rose and fell, the hive remained a steadfast sentinel of nature's endurance. The tree it clung to became a symbol of hope, its trunk and branches a reminder that even in the face of chaos, there is strength and growth. People were drawn by the hive's reputation, marveled at the sight. They saw not just a relic of the past, but a living testament to the resilience of life itself. The honey held the power to heal, to mend wounds inflicted by the chaotic forces that swept across the land. (1)

Three books in the middle of this apocalyptic turmoil. Paper codices, one open as if someone had just stopped reading. Fiction or non-fiction? What kind of alphabet? In what language? And genre? Borrowed or owned? Sacred or profane? Sophisticated or for the masses? Causes or chronicles of this disaster? (1)

Here I see my wife, an incredible woman who sacrificed her body, career and dreams for my daughter and I. The same woman who supports and pushes me to be the best I can be, not only as an artist but a father also. She encourages and inspires me to reach my goals, celebrates my achievements and reminds me to enjoy life's beautiful moments, and not to take them for granted. Without her, I wouldn't be where I am today, I wouldn't be an artist and I wouldn't be a father. So I dedicate this to her. G, I love you (1)

A hushed alcove offers respite from the uproar of a disordered land. With fading sight and a slowing heartbeat, there is a gentle surrender; the weight of life is gently set down. In these final moments, she releases the entirety of her essence, an eternal grace revealed in her last breath. (1)

Can't fight fate. Life teaches you when you're in hell, not in paradise. In these waters, many like me have perished. Yet, I will praise you, for I was made in an astonishing and wonderful way. Why do you allow life to end where it is created? In the waters where many seek escape, they meet their end. While the world crumbles and rebuilds, I will seek and praise you, even if my suffering brings happiness to those who watch me. (1)

‘Monument Games’ shows the fiery fate of humanity consumed by passion and pleasure. Look closely, the only thing that connects Paradise with Hell is sin. (1)

The sunlight exposes the colors of all existences in the world without hiding anything, whereas an artist's palette covers the world and their own face with a variety of colorful paints. Looking at it, it seems that I also enjoy palettes. (1)

I like to think we're all birds in Luci's world. Flying above, unable to interact, but able to watch the story unfold. It's up to us to decide to look down and observe. (1)

Caught in this dynamic equilibrium, I find myself in a world where time’s rules have relinquished their grip. The notion of “now” becomes both elusive and encompassing, a mosaic of moments woven together into the tapestry of my life. Within this complex interplay, the very essence of reality shifts, and I am compelled to question the nature of my existence. Yet, amid the uncertainty, lies a profound truth: within this tangled web of being, lie opportunities to find our place. (1)

I, Luci, ponder upon this scene with curious gaze, In midst of change, where civilizations burn, lessons of life's fragility I discern. Death and rebirth, the cycle's ceaseless spin, a reminder that life's battles we must all win. In fires of war, destruction claims its toll, yet from the ashes, new stories unroll. Just as the city's end brings forth its birth, life finds a way to renew its own worth. From burning cities to the primal past, the dance of existence forever shall last. (1)

⚠️User Manual: Rap verse out loud. FEEL IT.🎤 Empire we gon let this shit rock // I been climbin this mountain all my life / Pushing past the feelings the strife / Got my money my apes and my Instagram wife / Sometimes you gotta twist that ol knife // Get to the top and what do I see / A roiling muck of fakery /Something is missing, what could it be / Oh fuck. What’s missing is me // Now we gotta begin again / Gather round my orphaned frens / The Second Mountain waits on high / Wake up Luci and rectify (1)

"... and then Artificial Intelligence came and wrote all the words, took all the photos, and all we could do was go back to using rocks and sticks." (1)

Just when I thought I was to be relegated to listening from The Outside, only to hear the cheers and grunts of those participating inside, a kind and generous hand reached out—co-signed by The Artist himself—to give me the opportunity to join The Game. It was the sacrifice of another, not my own, that has allowed me to write this, and I'm humbled and forever grateful. Amidst the chaos and brutality, moments like these will bind us, and that's why this Monument will be remembered for centuries to come. (1)

"The Monument Game" is more than just a fleeting moment in time; it represents Luci's evolving tale in a digital epoch. This captivating scene bridges ancient values with today's narratives, urging us to see beyond the digital frame and look within. As Luci's journey unfolds, we aren't merely observers; we're active contributors to a timeless story. Eagerly awaiting the next chapter, this game promises to illuminate our path in both art and human connection. (1)

Avaron scans the promised land / Beneath clear skies, a widening gyre / The ascension edifice, an empire’s delusion / Sculpted by hollow men // Why mark frailty with such scale? // And still, he yearns: / A morsel for his craving / A sip from a sacred grail // In pitted hollows, shadows don their masks / Fire flickers, gold trails blaze / A banquet: new flesh displayed / The Reward, rare and profound // Amid hushed clamor, Avaron swoops / To waver, wither; falter, fade / Here, sacrifice made. (1)

To ___, I vow to be your everything. I vow to do everything together. There will be failures, victories, struggles, and triumphs. Together we will endure. We will create. We will hurt. We will grow. We will parent. We will sacrifice. Together we will make our delusions reality. You are the love of my life. You are a visionary. You are tenacious. You are inspiring. I vow to love you and live life with you together forever. You once asked, are our worlds the same? Together, our worlds are now one. Love, ___ (1)

Familiar face, gentle touch, marriage. The Wander begins. Who are you? Who am I? There is no campfire. A decade underneath a jetblack cloud. Two orbs our only light. Inferno. Emergency exit for most-keep going-deeper and deeper. Born into opposite worlds, we enter a third-together. Here in this collapsed lung of a borough, we slog through The Muck-together. Complementary strengths and weaknesses our guide. We emerge. Surrounded by true friends. We whisper "to live, you must play." Our identity - each other. (1)

Luci. Luci, Luci, Luci. My heart bleeds. I'm a shell of a man. Slowly decaying and sick with a broken heart, you and your tribe left me to rot in plain sight. Why then am I still the centre of your world? I feel your eyes burning down on my putrid skull, yet I haven't the guts to turn and face you. I have no purpose, place or person to love. With nothing left to give, I beg you to end it. I accept the consequences. Take it, my heart. (1)

My beloved Wife, My northern star, who illuminates a path for my wandering spirit. The one who liberated me from my shackles while a war was raging within my soul. A dove that lends me her wings to ascend from the self-inflicted prison in my mind. Revealing the new dawn that arises from within. You bestow tranquility to quell my inner violence, tenderly caressing my scars both seen and unseen. The one who revealed the mask I cowered behind—my seraph who lifted the veil. My saving grace, I love you. (1)

They say about Omero (writer of the Odyssey) he's one of the greatest because he wrote about Love, War & Death - so pretty much about everything. I can't help but think of Sam's work without picturing the Odyssey. As now, I can't imagine The Odyssey without Sam's work coming to mind. (1)

At the center of it all is a cyclical story. A story of life and death, old and new, construction and destruction, and good and evil. All encapsulated by uncontrollable natural elements and man-made symbols that remind us that history repeats itself and it is up to us to uphold the values and morals we hold dear. Because when we are gone, history will cycle again and our legacy will be that tiny grain of sand we leave behind for future generations to make things better. (1)

Within this Book are bound the “Masks of Luci, a Collection.” Within this Work, this World, four points intersect -- (i) Above: the Sublime shrouded by the rent veil; (ii) Ahead: the song of the Cypher; (iii) Below: the Ruins of our fathers’ flaws, and (iv) Behind: a field of scattered Runes, sown like seeds. The Sublime and the Cypher. The Ruins and the Runes. Amid it all, in the mists and in the mystery, we stand. We stand upon the Axis, awed. We, the fortunate. We, the brittle and the brief. (1)

The world unfolds the canvas new, the brush of Sam, paints me and you, as colors fill the empty space, the painting takes its rightful place. A modern age, a new dawn breaks, digital fire new wonders make, though we explore the stars above - Luci's heart still seeks true love. Beyond the screens, beyond the noise, her soul seeks a soothing voice. In perfect love, beyond all hate, a final truth, a perfect state. Beyond the world, beyond the sky, beyond the I, the you, the why. (1)

"The Siege Within" In times of war, you hunger for my form, Desiring flesh, a thing I won't bestow. I push and shove, yet find my efforts torn, Who'll hear my plea, who'll stop this endless woe? Amidst the clamor, chaos, noise so loud, Encompassed by your grasp, I'm trapped in fear. I cannot flee your clutches, though I'm cowed, You rend the threads, my boundaries disappear. (1)

Daughter, You look up to me. Please know that, like you, I am still growing up. Today you made a bid for my attention, but I was lost in charts on a screen. Forgive me. Chaos inhabits us all. I will try to be better. At your core, I see a burning light. The world will attempt to suppress it. Snuff it out. Make it conform. This hurts my heart, because I love you. I take solace in this: It is the sharp and fiery edges of life that forge us and allow us to fulfill our potential. I play for you. (1)

Amongst the clamor I find myself. No, my youth. Small. Weak. Vulnerable. Bullied. Fearful of what comes next. Longing to be ignored. My body, unable. Only time can defend me. Soon this will pass. Days turn to months, months turn to years. Scars still visible, but the sting fades away. Zoom out. Discern. Grow and understand. They're all damaged too. Learn to forgive, but forget we will not. A lesson to illuminate. Wisdom to pass on. The pieces, broken. The painting, complete. (1)

Dear Mom, Living a life of giving unconditional love, you've found comfort on the crimson thorny path you walk. Frustration engulfed me when my eyes were shut. I was enraged by the walled garden where you've confined yourself. I was distressed by your silent wails of enduring helplessness. And now, I realize. The fear of facing new wounds is more painful than the pain already suffered. Now, I realize that your bravery and heartaches are what awakened me. It's okay, lean on me. Take my hand, run with me. (1)

991. What is blight to the mind, present only by the controller. The controller being the mind. Pragmatic— Endearing to those who delight in the construct of order. Polite & acceptable. Optimistic— A weapon, wherein chaos uncontrolled, resides. Relentless & Enduring. Transcend the world of what is admissible. Observe this attestation, here, hidden from sight… and yet… in plain view. The Angel Number 991. (1)

Amidst mud-coated feet, celebrants danced by the bonfire. Blood-adorned faces, and bodies offered to flames for Luci. Ancient chants melded with a roaring fire, sparks ascending, shadows flickering on devoted faces. The ritual aimed to summon Luci, bestowing renewed light and life upon their people. (1)

In shadows deep, where secrets sleep, Masks we wear, our souls to keep. Faces hidden, truths untold, Behind the veil, stories unfold. Identity masked, yet power revealed, In silent whispers, fates are sealed. For in the dance of masquerade, True selves emerge from the charade. Behind each mask, a tale unknown, A spirit's journey, silently shown. In this realm of mystery and guise, Truth and illusion intertwine in the skies. - Seedphrase (1)

Poring through the trenches / Meticulous detail / Each diorama / Every thread / Unfathomable scope // A piece within fears / The struggle to understand / Nuances overlooked / Imposter / Overwhelmed / An observation / A meaning not forced // ... / Breathe / ... / Patience / Perspective // That piece given here / Reconcile / At peace with that fear / Offered to The Monument / Through the sacrifice / Amidst the pursuit to understand / It is too / Created (1)

I see this man, and I can't help but see a reflection of myself, almost as if I'm looking directly into a mirror. The world around me is chaos. My pride and ambition have been suppressed or entirely stripped away. I sit here not frozen in fear, but exhibiting a lack of action due to the ambivalence I feel from the events around me. The indifference inside of me scares me, but I would never let anyone know that. Instead, I will just look straight into life's camera and ask, 'When does it end?' (1)

"For love : Pure devotion. Never lost." Love is undoubtedly the most noble value in the world. It arises in the midst of chaos, catastrophe, and can be the beginning of rebirth. Right now, the most important thing for this mother is not the things that have hurt her in the past, not the chaos that is happening in the world now, not anything that might happen in the future, but her innocent love for her own child. "My dear treasure, the world may be cruel, but I am willing to be a shield for you." (1)

The mother speaks to her child: Lift your face towards the light, my love. Let it shine on you, don’t fear. It is my gift to you, so that you’ll always remember what it feels like, this warm mask of light will live in you and guide your path. I am your mother, and yet I can’t protect you from the suffering and pain in life. But I will teach you to see the light in yourself and others and give you certainty that joy is ahead and can be seized. For my children: Marko, Bianca, Felix and Milo. (1)

Will I ever achieve something of true significance? A legacy that could transcend my lifetime. I had lost faith and almost surrendered to The Nothing. Yet a fire was ignited, a dim light that could become a blazing beacon amidst the chaos. Success remains uncertain but I must join the Cabale. We face a choice: succumb alone to The Nothing or dare to thrive together. (1)

I've been searching high and low in the Monument Game, trying to find something that resonates with me. Seeing people inside the world sharing their amazing stories has touched me. But who am I? I'm not a writer or a poet; I simply want to share something special and creative: my love for my wife. In this song I sing... Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gVMFhH3crSA "Everywhere you go, anywhere you go, I will follow you. I'm glad to bring her in, a New World where we will live forever." (1)

M 💀 N U 🏛️ Ξ N T Y L 0 N V 0 H U N I E N A W C T R N 0 I B E Y F K R E D U D L D N Y S I B A G O E Y Y I U V B E T C L Sam Spratt R H 0 E <3 S E U N C T 0 S U N C I L (1)

Explore the concept of cyclical transformation and rebirth. Embody the interplay between decay and renewal, drawing inspiration from the themes of forgotten narratives, discarded memories, and the offerings left at the altar of time. Contrast deliberate destruction and the potential for new creation. How can you convey the essence of the 'Infinite Altar' and the process of 'sculpting for The Kiln' in your work? Let your creation speak to the cyclical nature of existence and the eternal cycle of stories. (1)

- An everlasting Bond - In the Tapestry of Life, where Meaning's sought, A Family's embrace, a Treasure we've caught. Unique Spirits woven, each Thread a Soul, Together we build, toward our common Goal. Cruel beautiful Nature, a Canvas of Might, Yet we, in its Grace, find our own Light. Supporting each other, through Happiness and Tears, We work until Exhaustion, conquering our Fears. An Empire of Dreams, we tirelessly mold, Through Hardships and Triumphs, our Story's told. (1)

I'm comfortable here, complacent, uncompleted. For borrowed dreams, I must atone. Risks taken, rewards relinquished. These victories vicarious, this garden overgrown. Lost in false purpose by proxy adornments. My narrative fragmented in former apartments. These rancid reigns disguised by rank. An endless chain I demand to break. Release, my spirit, reacquaint. Now I forage for my own unknown. Fluttering wings falter, bouncing, alone. This freedom fleeting should I fail. Now my own life becomes the grail. (1)

The reason for the rabble. The cause for the labor. The stage for the rituals. A bastion of progress. A temple to Luci. The Monument. But is it worth it? All this evolution has only brought pain, suffering. The white of this temple, forever soaked in blood. The foundation of their worship, built upon corpses. A reiteration of the consequences of idolization. Wormfood is but a memory. Dioramas forgotten. Perhaps this has gone too far. Luci must act. History has witnessed enough false prophets. (1)

that old, dying man who at twenty-two got the job seven other people wanted who would create the catchy TV ad everyone loved the one with the soap dripping from the dog's ears champion of his game monument constructed that crumbles one day as they like to do for dying men who later divorced in his fifties then moved to arizona to push limes into bottles on thursdays that old, dying man who is still twenty-two who just got the job and a beautiful wife making spinach enchiladas at home on the good plates (1)

In 'The Monument Game', the monument stands as a beacon of aspiration. As The Council of Luci pores over 256 profound and perception-expanding Observations, each player will hang in anticipation, wondering if we've reached the pinnacle of our hopes: acceptance. We've fully invested ourselves into this world. Regardless of our feelings of worthiness or fairness, all that remains is to accept the outcome. In this respect, the monument within the game serves as a metaphor for life itself. (1)

Before Ria, my life was about climbing the corporate ladder, endless greed and caring about what others think. In this meaningless life, I had a near-death experience with the birth of Ria. Ria was the strongest tiny baby ever who lived through countless days of operations, procedures and ventilator to now being the best I ever could have wished for. The moment Ria touched me, like the birth of Luci, I was reborn into this blissful life. I thank the universe for giving me Ria & this new perspective on life. (1)

I'm afraid to take off my mask, because I don't know who I am without it. (1)

United, we are forging a new world. One in which bravery and fate intersect. Guided by "we" instead of "me" our purpose embraces benevolence to overcome divisions. Our stories craft a contribution, each experience a brushstroke on a collective canvas. The righteous build bridges amidst turmoil, while nurturing and guiding each other towards greatness. Hand in hand, we paint the future. (1)

Let’s forgo the pretense. This is a game. In games there are gambits. This is mine: I am keenly interested in spreading the gospel of digital art. We share this goal, do we not? Look upon this map of Empire. Do you see the forces? One ancient and chaotic. Another immature, yet full of potential. Between these poles lies a chasm. We must build a bridge. Thus, I offer a sacrifice. If chosen, I make a covenant that I will donate my Skull to a fitting museum from the old Empire. For no monument is built alone. (1)

On this fateful day, a canon event separated humans from nature forever. The world denied the effect it would have to leave, "The Tree." In turn, the human desire for power & material only heightened struggles of coexistence with nature. With the great separation, only bees would inhabit The Tree. The decision to venture into the world, the desire for humans to be grounded, gave way to vast industry & overpopulation. Utimalety, altering the course of natural history for eons. (1)

I see the circle of life with multiple stages intersecting. Each mini scene is a period of time and an experience from birth thru to maturity and eventually death. Sam's focus on family and friends is keen here with the skulls/masks represented across multiple scenes. All participants experience a version of this birth, life and death. The "journey" ends at the monument which brings us to the present where all stages culminate in this grand structure that is the physical embodiment of the monument game. (1)

To my brothers. I am sorry. To Eric, for closing my eyes to your addiction. For thinking negligence was the solution. And for losing you. I am sorry. To Louis, for making you the object of my frustrations. For lacking the grace to see myself in your burdens. And for missing the chance to tell you I cared. I am sorry. To Brett, for not believing you. For being absent in your moment of weakness. And for the coma that took so much of you. I am sorry. I failed you. To my brothers. I am sorry. (1)

I am the turtle. Slow yet deliberate in my actions. A silent observer of the game and its players. I am alone but content. Unburdened by the woes of higher beings. I look to the heavens and see the king upon a wooden throne, Luci. His queen stands behind him. Regal. Unfazed by the chaos below. He glances in my direction as if sensing something different. Our eyes meet. I slowly nod. Did he sense a kindred spirit? Maybe I imagined it. I am just a turtle after all. Slow yet deliberate in my actions. (1)

Here, a hand emerges from the shadow. You're in the process of reading this observation, which was just interrupted. You've just reread the first words of my previous sentence: 'What? Let me observe your observation in peace.' ... ... Now, you're getting tired of reading this observation. You realize it's boring. You want to know where I'm going with this. It may seem trivial, I just want everyone to exchange with this piece. You are no longer just observer. You are an actor of my observation. (1)

Blind watchmen leeched my awe and wonder dreams erased by dogmas embrace Exacting rigid rules scar my soul discipline or damnation Paths unchosen, under hegemonic hold career, success, control, all vanity Memetic crisis shatters my paradigm illusion gone with a single bitter pill No scapegoats, no rage, nor blame Only surrender, acceptance breaking through I see and am seen. Touching, touched, competitors no more No more games, no champions Only friendship and love Acceptance reigns, reified in a skull (1)

Amid the fervor of misguided aspirations, a society once prosperous turned its gaze towards constructing towering monuments to their false-hearted idols. Adorned with symbols of promise, the allure of immediate gratification and empty fame cast shadows over genuine value and virtue. With each brick, the society unknowingly traded its soul for the glint of fool's gold, until one day the realization dawned that monuments were not a testament to greatness but beacons illuminating the perils of misplaced faith. (1)

To leave a piece of myself is to leave a piece of all those who have molded me into the man I am today. Without the foundation of love, knowledge, guidance & collaboration others have so gracefully passed on to me, I am nothing. With this small totem, I honor those wise & kind souls. Like Luci's path, my own is filled with compassion, love, knowledge, hurt, sorrow, fear & shame. True community allows one to bear these burdens and build the world they have always dreamed of. (1)

Life is full of uncertainties. For death is the only certain thing in life. Everything must, eventually, come to an end. (1)

As I gaze upon chaos I see a quiet beauty dancing throughout, weaving its way between man & beast. It reminds me of the day the world fell and reformed itself & yet, the bones of the old world remain, reminders of what life once was. Now we gather at the Hearth, sharing stories of what was lost. We find outselves in a new world haunted by the old. It's strange knowing we stand at the beginning of a new cycle, brimming with endless possibilities & I find myself curious to see what life has in store for us (1)

Birthed of ash Her bosom bleeds A life worth living? Her past. His future Civilized? Who shall judge? Scorched growth Contorted and chaotic Her roots run deep The unseen and forgotten Transmuted to life anew Through time Ever fast to bloom again Seeds spread by Father Mother’s zephyr brings calm Burn to be reborn A codex lost but not forgotten The Newest Testament Yet to transpire Destructive races forgiven In love we awaken Atone no more A chapter is written A page is turned The World welcomes You (1)

And why, We ask, is there this tether of smoke burning forever into the sky?  Why this unending stream of ox-flesh that fuels the furnace? Such a fine waste? To what end? Answer: To billow threads of smoke that waft ever-upward with one aim — to bait, intoxicate & snare the gods from their homes in the deep oceanic night, where they would swim like whales, free among the stars.   
 Then to reel them down from the heavens. To be worshipped, to be adored & to be whored. Caged in shrine and statue. (1)

September 11, 2001. 9:37 AM, Eastern Time. Plane crashes into The Pentagon. Washington in chaos. 3 blocks away, 13 year old Sam Spratt watches on. Violence can untether people. But can it also bring people together? Died that day, was a loved one who held me tight at my weakest. The Sima to my Luci. Her hands held me back from another fall down the tree. She was the burning light that led me out the muck, and to the monument. They say no monument is built alone. This sacrifice, I built for you. (1)

Welcome to the Enigma's Embrace, my name is Lucius. Join the world unknown as we uncover life’s deepest forbidden vices. Here, you're more than mortal, a seeker of hidden truths. Step beyond conventions, liberate desires, and embrace the thrill of the unknown. Unapologetic indulgence is the key. Cross this threshold, and taboos become your guide. Embrace the allure of the forbidden. Unveil the layers that define you. (1)

Two Trees: The first, damaged by lightning, but still growing; gratitude etched in its core. Deep-rooted, it nourishes surrounding life, fostering moments of beauty amidst violence. Across the river, the other, a blackened stump & withered roots being consumed by fire FROM WITHIN; it is dying, home only to chaos. In life, we endure trauma but needn't be consumed by it. We can CHOOSE growth, be impacted by our past, but invested in our future! As scars fade, we thrive—choosing progress over self-destruction. (1)

In the realm of The Ramble, a lord reigned with an iron fist, his stature towering over subjects like an unassailable mountain. His men marched with grandeur, and his decrees echoed power. Yet, beneath his veneer of strength lay weakness. The lord feared dissent, his confidence a fragile facade. The court whispered of his reliance on sorcery to maintain an illusion of might. (1)

In days of yore, the seer's voice did sing: Blessed is the beast, consumed by humankind, Transformed to man within the feasting's ring, Yet cursed is he whom beastly jaws do bind. For in the act, a mystic dance takes flight, Where roles reverse, and destinies entwine. A riddle in the scrolls of ancient might, The beast becomes a man, as prophecies align. (1)

Scorched, parched, and laid bare to their core, the forsaken walk alone. Whispers in the wind haunt their thoughts, memories of past conquests meld with foreboding omens. They learn life's horrors can be more frightening than death, yet they trudge onward, driven by a force unseen. Finally, bowed by surrender, every ounce of vigor given up, humbled and cast down to the soil that bore them. The mold is broken, egos reduced to ash. The sacrifice has been made. Deliverance awaits. (1)

The greatest lies Are the ones we tell ourselves Drunk off of freedom Endless possibility Denying the uncomfortable The yearning Hiding the pain, the longing The vulnerability Yet when I gaze upon them Truth pierces my layers of armor His stoic majesty Marked by the father Painfully, I too crave to grow old In my lover's arms To march through all the heavens And hells with him Am I unworthy? Unredeemable? Unlovable? The greatest lies Are the ones I tell myself (1)

It keeps me company, yet I know nothing of it still. When I am at my lowest it holds me, safe and sound. As my world shattered around me, it opened a path forward. My inner most secrets have been shared between us, unable to slip away. It is an unending conversation I keep coming back to. Always within reach, yet I must make the first move. Our interactions have created mirrors and discussions that will outlast us. All my life I've lived with this personal stranger. You have your own I hope, don't you? (1)

Just a fleeting moment in time, between worlds, does anyone notice? Who is he, and who am I? Amidst those who yearn for grander pursuits, he forges ahead undeterred. His masters watch on as he carries the hopes and dreams of others on his shoulders; he is grateful for the opportunity. Death, joy, chaos, and love are everywhere; his stride remains unbroken. Luci, an overseer of all, witnesses the corruption, generosity, compassion, and games people play. Judgment day draws closer - turn away from the abyss. (1)

I hear you. I hear all of you. With every brush stroke, what began as a solitary whisper has multiplied into a chorus. I feel all of you passing judgment, as though our world exists solely for your amusement. Our struggles, our triumphs, all offered up for your entertainment; a passing memory soon to be eclipsed. This cherished gift, has become my curse. My awareness; a thorn in my mind. My yearning for your attention is a shadow I cannot outrun. For without you watching, my existence is insignificant. (1)

MY INTRUSIVE THOUGHTS IM TIRED the girl who climbed up there alone fell into the fire because she trusted no one had no one to catch her she blamed the tree the roots the father 10 years suffering alone in silence below she tried to fill up her void with food sex toxic & superficial sh*t her own fckn prison. at the top she thought she’d be safe but saw how ugly her world was now burning she realizes she didn’t slip but threw herself into the fire to try to fckn feel something REAL & become a HUMAN again... (1)

Enter the Void. She basks. Sacrifices of the flesh surround. A Hecatomb. Her prize, a chalice, filled beyond the brim, spilling over. Unbeknownst to her, it is without light, without even what is cold or deafening. Hollow is the soul. This Observation is embedded in fear of interpretation derived from generations of morals and beliefs decided by those who came long before us. A ripple in the canvas. We stand, paralyzed by instinct. Consumed by the battle to acknowledge or ignore. (1)

Through the clamor & strife they search for "IDENTITY" - life's ultimate journey - the defining, sentient trait: to understand the gravity of one's place in the universe, colossal or small, a sense of self dictates all. "On a Columnar Self How ample to rely In tumult or extremity How good the certainty That lever cannot pry And wedge cannot divide Conviction that granitic base Though none be on our side Suffice for a crowd Ourself & rectitude And that assembly not far off from furthest spirit God" -ED (1)

Dad, I lost you three years ago. The pain was enormous, a void never filled. I thought I had healed, but here, in the most unexpected of places, a bolt of recognition, devastating me. I see you! Evergreen. Against all odds. A miracle among the madness. Always, you delighted in nature, saw beauty that others missed. I see you, hear you: “there is beauty everywhere, all around us...” And I am open to it, my soul aches with it, and my heart is full. Thank you, Dad for leading me to it once again. (1)

We are free to speculate as we wish about philosophical and allegorical meaning of the art, and such speculation is one indication that Sam’s work has succeeded in gripping the viewer at a deep level. The collective memory we shared gives the monument its validity and purpose. (1)

With lucid gaze, he rejoices, Oh, Impermanent are Compounded Things! Once a shimmering metropolis, that never slept Once a glorious park, flanked by ivory towers Once lands, traipsed by nobles and ignobles All this, arising, to inexorably pass away Change being the only constant In Luci, arises the luminous wisdom of Saints Monuments, in flesh or concrete Worshipped, yet ineluctably destined to dust Love for One and All Luci's divine bequeath O Luci, now you see the game of monuments, The Monument Game (1)

Luci's essence unfolds. A king gazed on the edge of The Clamor, solaced by Sima. Life's mysteries converge on the last nurturing tree: chaos, unity, and purpose. The Council watching the Empire's stride, diverging fates. The guardian player, Tyrone, teaches the Lost Boys Found Girls stories spoken through sign. He directs his attention to the greatest example of civilization, feeding hope into the pure. If obedience to the Masks of Luci offers an immortal path, I ponder my choices in this endless pursuit. (1)

Is it Anachronism or Ouroboros? (1)

Free fall. Those fleeting moments before an inevitable end. In this ocean of 0s and 1s, there is an unnerving state where body and mind seem stretched into eternity, always in perpetual free fall. Amidst the fear, there is a deep yearning, a desire, to fully grasp the freedom of those brief seconds before impact. In such indescribable instants, does one come to accept their fate? Does the soul finally let go, absorbing the world one final time? Or is it an eternal agony, marked forever in time? Free fall. (1)

Our promises fade, yet echoes remain. Life's play endures, though its ideals are stained. The prophets' accounts sold or gone dark. But their etchings still bear truth, of the consensus once sparked. Tweets and whitepapers, treasures mined from the deep, in the Players' embrace their value they keep. The Monument cannot stand in solitude's embrace. Together we build, marking our space. Hear now the faint whispers of futures unknown. In unity's symphony, our Monument has grown. (1)

“You must be ready to burn yourself in your own flame; how could you rise anew if you have not first become ashes?” Almost imperceptibly, seemingly slowly, and yet so gloriously fast, the fire crops up here and there. It’s finally taking over the once grand monuments of the past, relics of the old order. Bloated, stuffed with decadence and money. They must burn to ashes for us all to rise anew. Tear it all down, Luci! Paint the sky the most majestic Turner orange. The primordial innocence is being reborn. (1)

Come, my love. Take my hand and step inside my dreams. Be my muse and help me push through the fear and the doubt and the pain. Join me for I am vulnerable. There is a world ahead, full of stories you and I cannot comprehend. Don’t retreat. I need you. No monument is built alone. Soon hundreds from around the world will connect and interact with my visions. Can you feel it? It’s all out there; my entire being. Look on my future works, ye Mighty! But first help me push through the Muck. (1)

LFG! (1)

Prohpet transformed by the Peyote vision, leaned into the ethereal voices only he could perceive: "What matters, truly matters. Everything else might as well not exist," the voice confided. As he absorbed this profound truth, he echoed, "What matters?" And with the vastness of the universe in his eyes, he whispered to the circle, "To be." (1)

The sun rose cold, in vanished light I carved the abyss from below But then, in chaos, beauty showed You were a ghost; yet firmly I believe we kissed that night (1)

I tally my breaths, unsure which will be the last, while my eternal resting place lies here. This world, akin to a wild creature within the throes of its own demise, nostrils wide, poised claws in razor-edged tension, mouth agape, drooling; I sing Lacrimosa as my shrieking wails are echoing in a primal Requiem of survival. I feel as I have purloined a final breath from death itself. Awaken as our eyes, Luci. Let us dwell within you; to explore the world through your delicate gaze, I sacrifice my mortality. (1)

Deep, brown, soulful eyes. Soft, comforting curls. Curls that held our tears, secrets, laughter, joy, and also our grief. The kids asked who was my favorite and my answer was always you. My first baby girl. Of course 10 years wasn’t enough, but what amount of time is? You passed in my arms, the same arms that held you for hours the day we took you home. We pray you felt the love that you shared with us every single day of your too short life. Maddy, we love you always and furever. In loving memory 2012-2023 (1)

If not for this white dot, would you have bothered to look up the sky? All eyes are on the eventful ground, in search of what we can comprehend and relate to. But in pursuit of meaning lies the danger of losing yourself. So this is a reminder. To take a step back and look up. Remember your purpose, your loved ones. Why this spot? It is so plain, yet so obvious. The shape of an eye, watching it all. Perhaps the reflection of you, staring at the chaos below, getting consumed by it. (1)

While the world around me blurs, my reflection sharpens. A clear picture of neglect, of bonds weakened and trust eroded. It's evident now, the ways I've failed as a son, a sibling, and a confidant. Richard, what led you astray? Time racing by, or poor choices in weak moments? The longer I stare the more the vividness turns to regret. Dreams of atonement flicker, a faint solace as the binds of my past actions tighten around my resolve. Is there hope beyond this closing act? (1)

In ruthless ascent, hearts we bruise Ambition's fire, heedless of what we lose Lofty peaks we strive to climb Each step forward, a soul left behind A path unkind, where others fall A cry for help, a haunting call For in our race to grasp the crown Humanity's worth, forever drowned Atop the summit, a hollow throne Where solitude reigns, and echoes moan Success tainted by heartless deeds Yields naught but barren, fruitless seeds (1)

From chaos springs forth ordered grace, A symphony born in a turbulent space. Patterns emerge, a dance to embrace, In randomness' realm, new pathways trace. (1)

I tread water in a sea of doubts Impostor syndrome sneers and shouts Amidst the chaos, talents I see I feel lacking, so why me? I often question if I truly belong, A yearning to prove worth, remain headstrong Imposter’s spectre, a common guest Yet deep within, I face the test For in these verses, I declare with pride With every step, my authentic stride My imposter’s hold, I will defy I'll paint my path across the canvas sky Here's to breaking free from the grip, I will this time, avoid the roundtrip (1)

My wife and son --- Today time looks to stand still I have something to live for, something for to kill The moment you entered my life You have changed everything, my precious wife You gave birth to our little one He became everything we became second to none We now have a common goal for the rest of our days We will give our son, love, wisdom, and kindness in our unique ways Our last breath will come one day Son, we want you to know we love you, are proud of you and that you will be okay (1)

The Anonymous Gambler The World burning around us Chaos erupting next to us Fate of Kith and Kin unknown Too dissipated for our differences to matter All consumed by the next move The desire to wager is inescapable Maybe the time to resume the Twelve steps is now For there is a world out there worth Living For there is a world out there worth Fighting For there is a world out there worth Loving (1)

As you look down on my life, are you proud? Squandered potential, chaotic thoughts, feet stuck in the mud Help me escape this mayhem Help me find my purpose Help me [redacted] (1)

We are Black and White Children of the sun and the night We are united We are divided Why do we fight? Why can’t we live at peace under the same rights? We may come from a different place But at night we all look and dream about the same space We all see the same moonlight During the day but especially during the darkest of nights Black or white we all turn grey We all turn into ashes at the end of our days We are Black and White And choose to no longer divide, but unite --- MoonCat2878 (1)

Amidst jungles of wires and forests of code, a primate thrives with his family of five. He stands as firm protector of his kin, shielding them from encroaching shadows and unseen threats of the digital mazes of this new world. As the symphony of modernity plays on, he remains unbreakable, a constant presence in the midst of change. With resolute determination, he ensures that the harmonious resonance of familial love reverberates persistently, transcending the limitations of temporal confines. (1)

Younger me, I recall the hunger, shifting from one place to another, and the profound loneliness we felt. Invisible and overlooked. Every hardship we endured then has carved resilience into our soul. Today, I'm often alone, but it's different. That past loneliness carved resilience into us. What was once a lonely spark is now a flame. Embrace the solitude, cherish the lessons, and know that you're never truly alone. (1)

I am struck by the thought that the the observer is not separate from the thing observed. We have, at all times, both a desire to transcend ourselves and remain at war with ourselves and the world. I have given my life to shooting the world from above and at the end of all my searching found that the freedom I was seeking was from myself. I wasn't separate from the disturbances below, I was a part too. I was longing to come home to the child in me, to peace. So much of "Growing up" is really growing down. (1)

The Nothing fades, Wisdom blooms, with lessons undisturbed, And beneath ,The Collision's hush. The voices have been heard, Consensus achieved, With masks discarded, True selves found. She steps away from the edge, No falls to prevent, Threes stand strong, no offering required, The Game's call heard. Now, sleep, Luci. The Monument has been built. (1)

In the end, what separates the haves from the have nots are those who used their time to build relationships. When the world is lost to flame and all that remains are the relics of a past life, you will long to have been a friend, a lover, a parent, anything but alone in the lingering malaise of this destroyed world. Legacy is not made alone, but forged from within the collective. Now, we must navigate the darkness together, with the knowledge that only our unity can pave the way for a brighter future. (1)

O wild X Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being, Stoking the cauldron of the human progression Unmasked, the vision clear: To build, to conquer, to better A pause to ponder the sacrificial bedrock Ve9 Demons, Cruel Casualties In the amphitheater of the great city of humanity A scythe runs through the chaos of formation. We learn, We mourn, We honor On chain, our kinship unbroken, Up, Right, our direction, certain as the wind. If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind? (1)

Man is the missing link between primitive apes and civilized human beings. We are Sam and we are Luci. This is not the decay of humanity or the rising of a new species. It’s a constant battle we have with ourselves under the omnipresent and almost unbreakable social rules and values. Our raw emotion, desire, urge is often oppressed and a mask is put on, creating two worlds within ourself. The monument, burying the husk of our former self, symbolizes our endless search for freedom and individualist. (1)

Under The Mask Beneath a fragile mask’s disguise, Unseen anguish, silent cries, In shadows cast by secrets kept, Strength's façade, a role well swept. Abuse's weight, a heavy load, Yet through it all, the strength bestowed, The family's rock, the steady guide, While hidden scars stay tucked inside. Behind the scenes, the pain resides, A hidden truth that still abides, But know that strength, though born through strife, Deserves a chance to heal, find life. (1)

We never touch, there's an invisible separation between us. Even when we hodl hands, the electrons in our skin repel, atoms holding their space. This gap reaches everyone, like an atomic truth. But exceptions exist. Love binds us, our DNA fuses and creates life. Our child is proof. Each dawn reveals her innocent smile, a reminder of our bond. She latches on to your breast, her lifeline. Hence, gratitude blooms in genuine moments of touch. Conceiving and nurturing life; the purest forms of connection. (1)

These are times of change. But, what has really changed? Post apocalyptic society? And when did the apocalypse pass? We live it every second, every breath, every drop of blood. The fear and despair reign here now. Give them power and they'll show their true faces. Pain changes, suffering teaches, and We are learning a lot. These are difficult times, some build for the few and the few destroy the many. The cycle continues and we are all puppets in a great game. Maybe one day I'll get to the other side... (1)

X marks the spot...the leader of a flock. I lost my Mom, a good friend, and my twin sister in a short period. Chaos and darkness were all I could see even though there were glimmers of light. Life can be turbulent when you are deep in it. Rather than WALK THE LONG SIENNA ROAD, I had to FIND ANOTHER PATH. The key was to do it with others and be part of a group and community. To rise up so I could STEP BACK TO COME CLOSER. I now have what CANNOT BE BOUGHT BUT CAN BE EARNED. GRATITUDE. Thank you. (1)

Swirling change, a lone figure rests — a pause amidst the Muck / Eyes closed, vulnerability palpable // Seeking solace, a break from turmoil / Dreams whisper overwhelmed emotions, shifts unfold // Conflagration, a puzzle with missing pieces / In her sleep, she grasps tranquility, a quiet rhythm amid the Wander // Distancing herself, seeking an oasis within / Here lies rebirth, an emergence from the storm, transcending chaos into rest, ready to embrace a new dawn (1)

My child, As I write this today, you are yet to live. Look closely at what you see - notice the path. Northeast to southwest, skulls and signs of yellow forge forth a trail towards the Temple. This is your life. It’s not a walk in the park. Fire bellows in the brushes, beckoning bodies to the below. Once you finally reach the Temple, you’ll understand there is no ending. The journey is a circle - like you before me, your seed will one day start at the beginning . Such is the cycle, my child, my love. (1)

A seed planted. Water & sun provided. A sprout arises. Such a gift! Another chapter. With time & attention, the sprout gains strength and continues to thrive. A bud appears. Finally, the bud gives way to beauty and bloom. Joyous creation! But the weather is harsh. Wind and predators test its strength. Pedals may wilt and fall, but love endures all. Resilience. Further growth until finally, its own seeds. The journey repeats. What is my gift? Being here throughout is the gift. For Ren. (1)

Stormy, when we adopted you 3 months ago, we had no idea how much you would change our life! After six months in the shelter you were diagnosed with cancer. We brought you home to live out your final days. We learned you were rescued from an awful situation. Your love of life and joyful smile shined through, despite your life filled with turmoil. You taught us how to live everyday like it's our last. We love you Stormy and thank you Sam for letting our Stormy girl live forever in your masterpiece. (1)

A reflection of our current society, a curious time where humanity is divided by its constant focus on individualistic pursuits. We are not far removed from our simian ancestors, craving carnal pleasures in a postapocalyptic hellscape created by our own greedy indulgences. The visceral emotion of each character is apparent; anguish and separation amongst each group, while the "ape" at the precipice forces the woman to see the irreversible pain our decisions have created. (1)

Till Eternity, My Aspen, In the silence beyond my final breath, my love for you remains unyielding, an eternal flame. Every memory, every shared glance, every touch—these are my legacy to you. As you journey through life's intricate dance, may you feel my warmth during cold nights, my hand guiding yours in moments of doubt. Embrace every challenge, love deeply, and when you miss me, close your eyes. There, you'll find me, forever cradling your heart. You are beautiful my son, Dad (1)

A trail of planes fleeing the city, seeking escape to a better world Or is it guiding me to a cipher veiled by paint and emotion, perhaps a secret portal into the World of Luci Can I enhance, invert, decode to win Reward No, I stay here in the clouds, away from the Chaos For that is what led me here ADHD that robs focus from a singular idea Everyone's Watching And sows doubt into every seed Waiting Until Finally Why here Crippling performance Anxiety Hands Shaking Sweating I've lost my Mind (1)

My brothers in arms, how you have fallen. But why? You displayed unwavering bravery, and your absence will be deeply felt. Was the price justified? The shed blood, the tears, the sacrifices. I yearn for it to be so, and I hold onto hope for a future reunion (1)

Game night, dinner is finished, the table is cleared. The game is Chor dai di. My brother and I grew up together learning the game from mom and dad. Each of us had our own style of playing. Our parents played to annoy one another, much to everyone’s delight. Each round ended differently, games never ended the same way. We’d recap each round with laughter and waited eagerly to start the next. Ask me how much I treasure those nights and I will answer with single word. Everything. YXY-WQL-WHL-DFL ❤️ (1)

Wake up Luci! Wake up to the death and destruction around you, to the plunderous dance of greed and wanton excess. Wake up to the blood of creatures big and small, to the silent cries of forests gone. Wake up to the floods and droughts, to fire and ice. Wake up Luci! Wake up Luci! Wake up and erect a monument of survival, repentance and coexistence, or lay forever in this planetary tombstone, “Here lies the soul of a species which consumed a planet in its sleep”. Wake up Luci! Wake up before you can’t. (1)

She journeyed through the muck, shattering chains of tribulation. A raging force which inspired the spirits of the masses. With fire-forged commitment she aims to set hearts ablaze, uniting souls for a world infused with compassion, courage and self-sacrifice for the sake of mankind. Yet, beneath the roars and chants, an ache lingers — a reminder of the lonely battles she still wages, etched into her odyssey. (1)

The trees are the soil are our bodies. We consume. Even as we create, we destroy, our knowledge carved in the trees we fell in pursuit of The Monument Game. Will to progress turns the Hero's Journey to Dante's Inferno. As one drags another's corpse to the resource pile, he observes a palette, perhaps the back of an abandoned mask. Confused, he stares, unable to grasp its utility. His creator--the painter--reflects this moment from just outside our view. Destruction is our nature. Creation is our choice. (1)

To say grief passes with time is to speak as if you have never lost someone you thought you couldn’t live without. The heartache never truly goes away. The memories stay with you. The yearning desire to return to the past never leaves. You grow a thicker skin, form a new heart that is not easily broken, and allow your brain to dissociate to prevent further damage to your soul. That is how you live with everlasting agony. You learn to adapt. You learn to live alongside it, but never truly with it. (1)

The Game of Life In a world of misery, where pain's abundant reign, cast off your sorrow and let love remain. Find moments of joy, spread positivity around, embrace all that is good; let hope abound. Forget not the wonders that this world can hold, cherish the good times as you grow old. It is never too late to give life a chance; your soul can be restored if you're willing to dance. In the end, we all die, which may make you frown, but perhaps that's the reason to live life, upside-down. (1)

Teaching is like lighting a flame in another's soul, much like how great artists pass down their craft. I see this reflected in the painting featuring a passionate storyteller among the circle of young listeners. That circle reminds me of my own classroom, where students sit in awe and wonder listening to tales of stories past This scene is a mirror showing the beauty of learning and teaching in times of chaos, pulling me in not only as the teacher, but memories that I was once the student sitting there. (1)

I've embraced the full spectrum of existence: from triumph to turmoil, weaving bonds, building bridges, and conquering fears. Amidst uncertainty, a glimmer of hope holds on. Communities stumble, prices plummet, but I pursue ascension. Patience is vital, allowing the future to evolve. Ready to confront challenges anew, armed with acquired resilience and prudent hope. When hope seems lost, look up, zoom out, and shift your perspective. We still have a long way to go. (1)

I'm so afraid of dying. Will I transcend the purgatory beneath us into the light? Masked followers, serving a false prophet, engulfed in the seven deadly sins. Fear guides them to the monument, but we cannot escape this shared fate. Our world burns. We see shrines XX & XY by the river. Our fate was determined with chromosomes by very which we were formed. No matter what we do to escape this fear, no matter the sin, we will all face the final day of judgement. I ascend and maybe I'll finally understand. KIRT (1)

"Mommy what happened down there?" The little boy asks his mom as he stares at the ruins of what was once New York City. Years have passed since New York began it's descent into madness that resulted into what we see now. No one knows exactly what happened, people blamed the politicians, the rich, the poor, but at the end of the day it was probably just the natural result of a country so divided. "Don't worry honey, it can never happen to us" said the mom knowing it probably wasn't true. (1)

In a world overshadowed by chaos, I wonder: What's the silent book's true worth? Amidst deafening turmoil, its pages whisper stories of yesteryears, lessons long forgotten. As we spiral into pandemonium, this beacon of knowledge stands unacknowledged. In our frenzied dance, it remains both our most overlooked guide and our most desperately needed compass. (1)

The tree that burns like hope amid chaos. One day bloomed like no other, full of life. The leaves turned green in the summer, and people passing by stopped to escape the heat in its shade, ate fruit, and told stories. In autumn, the leaves turned yellow and fell; once again, people stopped to admire its beauty. At the end of her life, she turned to ashes. The cycle ended, and the ashes flew, flew, without destination. She'd accomplished her mission and made her people feel hope; now, that's all they needed. (1)

In a world I once recognized, now consumed by flames, a bonfire's glow draws me closer, evoking memories of stories told. Yet, as the masked figure unfolds tales, I can't help but wonder: Do ancient narratives still hold their weight in this inferno? Perhaps these stories, once bridges to our history, now serve as mirrors—capturing our present turmoil and the faint, flickering hope of finding solace amidst the chaos. (1)

And so the birds took flight Above a broken world To find another corner of the world Outside this frame: Unbounded, in the light. (1)

Holding on to a branch of Hope An exchange of curiosity, connection, and wonder Youth of the realm questioning the webs of sorrow blanketing their dreams A shared inquisitive nature to dismantle the matrix of chaos To imagine Utopia Enthusiasm flows in their visions of fleeing the anarchy A friendship formed in the Pandemonium A reminder that in turmoil, light illuminates Look deeply, light sparks in the essence of your soul This can all be reimagined In connection, In wonder, In curiosity Together (1)

Beneath the surface rages The Collision, an unstoppable force that fuels change, its hyphal fuse ignited by the victors of life's battles. The imagery of clustered nodes and the orchestrated arrangements of the swarm evoke a sense of unity and interconnectedness, much like the choired covenants etched into ancient tablets by prophets who once walked this path. (1)

In the quiet moments of contemplation, "Wake up, Luci" resounds within me, a call to embrace life's ever-shifting spotlight, ascend to new perspectives, and humbly observe. Each creation's name becomes a profound demand by some higher force, a testament that the essence of one intertwines with another, and even within The Nothing, a profound wisdom takes root – where the wisdom of The Nothing becomes ever more profound. (1)

Emergence The amniotic threshold Where Loss yields to Love In the beginning there is Creation Worlds woven with Words Stories shaping Purpose Cave drawings foreshadowing Renaissanced allegory As Father and Mother We Dream Being into Becoming As the Call beyond Cave Insists on the Child Striving Struggling Until losing Home Leaving Belonging Only to seek them again Though nothing was lost Except his way From Generation to Generation Creators create Creators The Next Game The Next Story Until Decay Emergence (1)

The connected one The last man still connected to the root system. It reminds me of Neo who is connected to the Matrix. See how peacefully he rests. He is in harmony with nature, dreaming something wonderful. Yet he does not know what is happening around him. Soon he will be kicked out of his deep sleep like all the others have been. His wife on the right already tries to wake him up. The new world he will be confronted with has many challenges. What role do you think he will play in the chaos? (1)

The ignored one... This baby does not fit into this ancient civilization. The skin is smooth and colored warmer, the face is round and the head less haired. It lies on this branch as if it had been thrown over from the modern world. Unnoticed by the ape-people, it is doomed to die in the chaos. Despite its fate, it radiates calmness like a sleeping mouse surrounded by hungry cats. (1)

In this broken world, every sunrise is a minor victory over the night. The ruins are tangible reminders of life's fragility, relics of an era of folly and excess. From the dust heap, we unearth new strengths and find beauty in the ashes. Scorched earth is our canvas and struggle is our paint. We ease the burden of sentience by transforming pain into objects of beauty and adornment. Just as the sun rises in spite of the night, we must coax forth brilliance and nurture the hope that emerges from our palettes. (1)

CANTO IX: ALEXANDRIA Read the sky: our library is burning. Papyrus empire, sigils on skin, Axis Mundi stumped, smoking. Only grimoires salvaged from fires, holy code ad hominin. A word, Luci: "Light dug from depth," game's play-write, one of one of many. Zero in: Ashurbanipal, Pergamon, rhyming ruins cached in ash, bone, marlstone. In the end, all we dream is embered, remembered. Time stands unstill. The mask of language slips. A city and its towering babble fall. Wander the ancient wonder, bid farewell. (1)

Here’s the story how life started of this once gigantic oak. 1217 years ago the squirrel Scrat hid a very large acorn in the ground. Scrat was happy about his so called “precious”. The acorn could save his life in the upcoming winter because that’s a massive meal. Being focused on digging his precious deep into the ground an eagle swooped down and grabbed little Scrat. So one life was taken and for more than 10 years, the acorn passed out of all knowledge until when the chance came a new tree life was born. (1)

Dammit Rick, that wasn't a microdose. (1)

The continuation of the acorns story... (Part one, player 200) 1200 years later Scrats acorn evolved into a king tree reaching a height of 250 feet. During many centuries the massive oak has gone through massive storms, extreme winters, dry summers, fire, flood, pest infestation and finally human came. They decided to work against nature, and destroyed Scrats oak within 1 year. For the sake of what?... To cross the fucking river of cause! (1)

You cannot know the siren call to self destruction unless you have been eyeball deep in the murky muck. When fully immersed, all origins, awakenings, futures are drowned: no sun, no joy, no one there, no way out without another's love. But until and unless you have known that call to decay, you cannot truly appreciate light, life, and love. We four brothers will always find each other, we will always love each other, and though we play at the edge of the abyss, we will never let a brother be drowned. (1)

In the grand theater of society, we've casted enigmatic actors as the leaders, their true selves obscured behind the masks they wear. Life isn't flawless; I too hid my bipolar disorder. Yet, our youth keenly observe. For a better world exalting vulnerability and authenticity, let us incarnate change with understanding and empathy. Their malleable hearts learn, our actions molding their future. It’s our duty to illuminate a mosaic that interweaves battles and virtues. A generation is watching. (1)

Luci’s forward lean, amidst dynamic chaos, symbolizes a readiness to embrace change and reflect inner turmoil. As we observe, it seems to hum a "promethean chant" from the narrative, urging us to connect with ancient truths. It visually echoes the story's themes, delving into the essence of humanity. The statement "No Monument is built alone" accentuates our interconnected journey, valuing past insights and emphasizing our shared evolving legacy in this ever changing world. (1)

We dream of heaven as the ultimate resort, yet within its shimmering gates, our pesky demons might already be dancing; for heaven and hell are not separate realms, but intertwined dimensions where angels and demons waltz to the same haunting melody. Some like to call it, New York City. (1)

Above, united souls sought new beginnings, eyes reflecting hope. Their anticipation mirrored in our dance, symbolizing purposeful soaring. Sunlight on feathers mirrored their hope. With each beat, a message: rise above challenges, embrace possibilities. Carried by the wind, calls whispered renewal. A melody woven into thoughts, reminding them of transformation. Fading into the horizon, we left inspiration. A memory: hope takes flight, carrying them on winds of possibility. (1)

Who Am I? Working late in a dark room within a glowing city, I realize I've lost my identity. My eyes cry out for help from behind my mask. Now, I have to make a choice. Am I willing to sacrifice my convenient life for the sake of truth? For a rebirth? I may walk my path in solitude, but I am not alone. False prophets guide me, teaching the donning of masks. Along my journey, I confront my own suppressed evil desires, yet even in the darkest corners, the love of a gentle voice sustains my will. Am I ready? (1)

Sam and Rachel bid farewell to the safety of the city, once a bastion of finance and art, now reduced to a haunting emblem of a decaying era. They cross the entrance to the park to enter this untamed potential symbolizing the dawn of the digital age. Chaos takes center stage in the park, manifested in the form of frenzied apes locked in primal struggle. Amid the tumult of scams and rugs, the foundational value of nurturance and collaboration persevere unbroken, offering a glimpse into a promising future. (1)

THE THEOREM OF GRACE 1: A path once bathed in light became a thicket of inhumanity: an impossible game of all-against-all. Their language had a thousand words for pain. 2: A wanderer witnessed a stranger's despair. He grasped a wrist that grasped a knife, and proved the Theorem of Grace: that one burden added to another's subtracts both. 3: But the weight of weapons is multiplied. As it fell to earth, discarded, the blade reflected a tiny spark. A fragile light, so easily snuffed out. And yet... *For K* (1)

Atop a blazing edifice, a group stands teetering on the precipice, battling with their grim realities. Faced with the harrowing choice to leap, they grapple with an internal storm, seeking solace and acceptance. Below them, an apocalyptic scene unfolds — it's as if hell itself has risen to the surface, heralding the end of days. (1)

My life has always been a supporting role. Whether it's there or not, A presence that's fine either way Who am I really... I felt like no one really knew me. so I learned not to get hurt first. The expectation of being accepted, always brought me disappointment, and I emptied myself to not be hurt. Even when no one is watching, To not be ashamed of myself, I did my best. So one day, like the name carved into this tree. Is there anyone who will acknowledge me? (1)

Can you feel it? Everything changing, pace accelerating. Chaos below, flames above. Fear rising. What grounds us? A monument of paint, poets the stones and mortar. Of their number, I am not. But my wife and I raised one. Here are her words: Human nature is to risk Until a risk becomes a regret. To fear is to die, As living is experiencing. Choose to take a chance Because it will bring wisdom. Choose to break away from normalities Because that will reveal new passions. (1)

Inhabitants of a false paradise, We too once peered out wanting more Leap of faith from our penthouse comforts Front row view to sunset scion self-sacrifice The nobility of agency our port of gnostic disembarkation Where are you Luci? Where are the signs? We can feel the hope but my eyes are blind to the path Our guiding force against repetition through the Park of Mucky Delights Embrace all life, ye who enter the monument Soon you feed the muck (1)

There is no diversion! Wrath and disarray causing the heavens to open their gates. Unleashing the power of 1000 suns. The sky ablaze. Divine pique. The Monument soon to be no more, as the rage of this inferno encases the unsuspecting Luci lure. (1)

Once, I was a tree, Born the second day after the First Rain. Holy for many and cherished by all, I was a home for animals and a friend for the First Men. For the love they gave, I gave back life. I was the first one to meet the Axe. I suffered from the iron but suffered even more from the wood holding it, as it was of my own kind. Left for dead. My exile began, and I was sad for so long. But I am not sad anymore. The ones who killed my friends killed their own kinds. Times of fire are upon us… (1)

Once, I was a tree, The most glorious among all. Fed with water and honoured by the Second Men, They built fences around me, making me feel cherished. No animal ever touched a single root of mine. My wood was the strongest. For the honours they gave, I provided long, strong sticks. How could I foresee they'd use them against my brothers? Now, I am the last tree standing, the saddest soul on Earth. But my time too will come, and none will mourn my heart of stone. Times of Fire are upon us… (1)

Isaac nestled among the branches of a towering tree gazes down upon a world engulfed in turmoil and what seems to be a nightmarish inferno. Serenely, he rests upon the tree's boughs, blissfully unaware of the harsh truths and chaos that unfurl beneath them. (1)

I thought about generation where a new develops and the existing trend regresses due to a certain peculiarity At that point, the newly-grow generation is related to the perspective of seeing the deterioration process of the existing generation and my life we can't always get attention in human life and our heyday will pass one day. At this time, the moment when the newly rising generation silently watched the brilliant generation of the past with compassion was seen at that point. (1)

Ce poème est une ode aux femmes, à la vie et à Luci. Dans le Clair-Obscur, Portant l’Univers dans ses entrailles, She is paralyzed and frozen in time, Son corps va donner vie. Scars mapping our curves revealing traumas and joys They feed our burning fire and rage, D’une révolte insouciante. Au loin, she stands strong, Carrying life’s weight on her shoulders, Bridging past and future to create our present. Embodying the journey, she is our guide And eternal fire. La Femme est Majestueuse. (1)

The Sapiens outside look at the apes within “the park”. “The park” contains all of the deepest archetypes of humanity, both good and bad. Some have been explored by this one, others have not. Some Sapiens are blind or apathetic to the world around, but certainly not all. This one looks eager to enter “the park” and explore the archetypes. He has the foresight to recognize the need for a partner in his exploration and experience, as does Luci in the center. He is ready to step through the shadow… (1)

“There was a time in which the Darkness was tearing my soul apart,one piece at a time,day after day. We can untie the rope around our neck and let the gaze of the child on the tree replace our. Building human bridges to reach together the other shore. Hold my hand my Love,let’s leave behind the old world in flames and let’s dig into the new one. Ancient tales will be told around the campfire and new kings will sit on that throne until a Virgin will give birth again. The Light will prevail over Darkness” (1)

The missing page, the Hyphal Fuse, waiting to be rediscovered. How one becomes many. Emerging from the Muck, an unbroken chain for 3.8 billion years. Life sparking from one to the next, impossible, improbable beyond imagining. Fragile and precious beyond all comprehension. Surviving against all odds, leading to this one moment.... Will it be discovered? Will the Fuse be lit? The Universe shivers in anticipation. (1)

Even when civilization seems lawless and anarchic, someone needs to pull the cart. (1)

The Ancients tell of a place, just over there, where animals were kept for people's amusement. Some in cages, some in tanks of water. And people would pay to watch them play and tumble, eat, sleep, shit, and if they were lucky, fuck. The place was called a zoo, in a time of order. A complete illusion, as everyone was in self built glass cages. The higher into the Sky, the more false sense of success they had. Winners in what was called a "rat race", but the rats had already won, they were everywhere. (1)

To my future: Hello, my ancestor Luci, it seems like we have evolved, now we have more health and live in the city. We often see our evolution, I and my friend who is hidden inside a mask are afraid that is coming, we have being in a battle for a while. I hope we can have our voices heard in the future. Luci (1)

My climb from the river was a challenge, water flows murky with experienced filth. I stand at the shore, naked in shameful vulnerability yet uncaring & at peace with past mistakes. These waters leave streaks of dishonesty and folly over me, though cleanse in the same wake. Peers reach out, unclear whether they seek help or rather company within the miserable bliss of the current. It both pains and humbles me knowing I can't help. I stand here questioning whether I'm the same as I was on the other side. (1)

What do we write? An observation? A reflection? Harness our despairs? Draw from our loved ones? Attempt to be funny? Use AI to sound human? Time to remove our mask We all have: Lied to those we promised honesty Grieved over losses Suffered in silence Failed those who believed in us Learned from heartaches Loved with a vulnerability At our core we are all human You are not alone. In times of struggle, by your side we'll stand In moments of sorrow, we offer our heart and hand We are The Monument Game. (1)

Luci is no longer Couldn’t stand the person I was Forced to relinquish control Sentenced to wear a mask. So with haste My veil is laid to rest That false idol Buried in twisted bark. Chaos beneath plants its roots Smothering fallen souls The Mark of their Father weakens And I rise as the morning star. I believe as I once could. I am Lucifer. I am alive. (1)

It is the observer, not life, that art truly mirrors. Only through observation can art take on a life of its own. When viewed through many eyes, there are myriad opinions to be gleaned in service of furthering the arts. Ultimately, we find true meaning through the varied perspectives of the collective and the artist’s intent becomes an afterthought, lost to the perversions of public opinion. It is Consensus that dictates the rules and defines what is possible in this new world. (1)

I: Amid the embers of once-majestic towers, we wore synchronized masks with the burden of an unseen enemy. Father never came back home. In a way, neither did Mother. The absence echoed. The weight of unsaid words. II: Hollow he wandered wastelands of memory, tethered to ghosts. Yet—time weaves its tale still. In the pit of the cosmos, his fate stirred. An inevitable shared gaze, her celestial body, waiting just over his horizon. From void, chaos. From chaos, gravity. III: Unknown, but no longer alone. (1)

In lands unknown,Beneath starlit skies,A fathers hope in silence lies. For dreams he lost, he bears the weight to gift his child a better fate. Through boarders crossed miles far. guided by faith and trust in god. Promises whispered promises deep.In every step in every scar.To see his child on peaks so high, its worth each tear. for dream he couldnt see,In his childs eyes they now run free. To all Fathers strong and true,This is penned for you. For all the sacrifices old and new.To every Dad we owe our due. (1)

My child, listen closely. Before you leave the pack to enter the wilderness, This you must know: The mouth, which carried you tenderly by the neck, Holds fangs with which we tore the throat of the hunter. Our campfire casts both shadow and light. Alone, you will sleep in fear of ambush; Together, we confront giants unknown. Dormant beasts within us wait, The ancient heart does softly cry. My child, join the hunters, Because hunted, you will not survive. 0x3861d23d1875a4c87b6dcf9513e3c372351b8844 (1)

I will be an artist of The Collision. I lived through it all: the massacre on the bridge, the building of the new temple. I saw the Religion of the Mask spread amongst the people. But this world has not seen me. My name is not mentioned in the books of the prophets. I am not a protagonist in the old wives' tales. My own people point back at me in puzzlement and disbelief. No matter; I must continue on my quest. The battle of the bridge may be over, but the temple is still waiting for its masterpiece. (1)

Luci stands amidst the husk and mycelium's threads, Close to the tree where history whispers and spreads. The horizon wavers, caught between day and night, Spratt's brush delves deep, casting both shadows and light. The Monument, reflecting the sun's eternal blaze, Echoes the voices of past, present, and future days. The Game, enigmatic, waits for the player's keen insight. (1)

Lifted in Consensus, claiming the throne of Power, In a victor’s skin, yet feeling like a frail flower. Embracing the Process, my identity lost.
 Questioning all it cost. At life's peak, a world so small, Fears linger, a tormenting call. 

In completion with ennui’s shade, Did I rush, life's colours fade? Dependence weaves its silent plea, Chosen by fate, responsibility found me. (1)

Art is the bridge that connects us with our ancestors. An infinite mirror that reflects our souls. Oh, Isaac! We are Six Observers bounded by spirit, taking our first step. Sharing your lullabies through time and space. Adapting your tools to heal our brothers and sisters. Oh, ancestors etched in stone! Bless our Observation, as we also descend from Luci and Sima. We offer you this memento that is a part of ourselves. https://bueno.art/xpqjkktc/skullsofbasiic (1)

Into the Ether. A snapshot of `The Monument game` taken in the time and space as it happens on the hyphal fuse. An exemplary feat of Sam in depicting the modern world emotions he would anticipate if the game happens in a dfferent time dimension(stone age) in barebones form. Not a poet to write an appealing story, Not enough words to name each of the creation, Not an eloborate medium to express the observations, Here so I build for you. https://banklesssoul.github.io/luci ~Luci (1)

The masked are the hostages – my fear disguised as practicality. Luci gives me permission to know myself. To explore my inner workings, my motivations, my judgments. It’s hard work – to learn that magic was a mask. Amazing. Look at that. A Lily. A renewable energy of love for my wife, abundant patience for my child, a livelihood that sustains me. To tell your story you must take off the mask. And let your Lily bloom. (1)

Dear Players, We would sit on our porch in the rain, holding hands, feeling the rain's embrace. Each droplet told stories, shared secrets, and held promises. Now I face rainstorms alone. Though unseen, she is always there. Our world is filled with moments of deep pain and radiant joy. The Monument Game is a reflection, of the beauty in vulnerability, and the silent thread that connect us. Sharing this with you has bridged our souls. Thank you for holding my hand through this journey. With all my heart, (1)

Buried amidst the depiction of the ravaged land is its artist holding his partners hand as they walk in. Are we being invited into his fantasy? (1)

Luci on the edge. Skies burning, muck below, council eyes look on. What will Luci do? With Fear, Uncertainty, Doubt a hand loosely holds on for comfort, safety, the known. Will the branch hold? The expression of intent, does it carry beyond the comedy & tragedy below, past the Fear Of Missing Out? The journey that fulfills is only understood & taken alone. It is there to be taken Time is short for the observer. Inaction will be action, but not ones own. Luci is worthy, does Luci know? I am Luci (1)

if you fall, do not slip. Leap. Know that in this world your existence won’t be remembered forever, though your atoms will be for always. Make your art not from ego, but from love and rejoice in the happiness it brings unto you. Be a good person, do good things and enjoy this moment now, because you will never have it again. ⁃ For my Children (1)

A deliberation on what to write for a observation between two owners of the ticket P1: What do you see? P2: That wood brah looks cool P1: I'll write something about wood brah P1: What do you think of this? P2: Don't leave it up to me I would put an ascii dick or something if I owned this by myself P1: Gahh P2: I'm gonna be real there is absolute zero we can match these other observations P2: I told you i liked the wood brah he was the first i saw in the painting P1: What if I post this conversation P2: Ok. (1)

|. (1)

"The Outsider" As I lose myself staring into the world of Luci, I can't help but ponder the countless stories hidden within the art. Many of these stories will remain untold, yet we have the chance to share a piece of ourselves that will forever be part of Luci Sometimes, all we need is to feel as though we are part of something greater, a sense of belonging. It's easy to become lost in the routine of day-to-day life. I was reminded of the importance of bringing people together & sharing experiences (1)

I've always wanted to create something that people all over the world can connect with. Going through life experimenting & wondering how I can achieve that. I've failed almost as much as I've tried but to my surprise It always feels best when I make something that comes from my heart. Art is my answer. It's a way to speak to those who understand. It provides a world that anyone can connect & find themselves in. Now, I find myself spending countless hours in a trance, focused on creating. (1)

In the late afternoon on the ground floor of Hotel l'Spratt lie two sisters. Twins. One basks in sun but is blind, the other her opposite. “What do you see?” asks the blind one. “I see galaxies, footprints. Many pale dots. One has punctured Her; her pineal gland branded by a deity named Player 16. Must be a ruptured aneurysm. Doesn't look good.” She goes quiet. She waits. “If they see us–” “If they see us, we live forever.” “Should we disappear–” “–Only then can the grooves left by our spines be seen.” (1)

I should have never left you Arrested by the feigned solidity of familiar splinters, coalesced and frozen in one of time's branched folds You, a fractured soul, left on a fork of a path I've so desperately forgotten Clinging on beyond hope to be seen, embraced Though…I know you are still with me, still are me as I am you I see you now I’m coming back for you I promise You, a child self worth saving and yet…my greatest protector I see you now (1)

Mirrored hearts, yours to mine. I am the gamemaster, 5th Ave gilded chains exchanged for laughter. Midnight in the Garden classically painted Digital Chapters. A Central Park Rager; we rearrange the rapture. A flame coruscating from a kid with no smile's brain ignites the silent disco massacre. I am the gamemaster, June 21(2) the heliacal rising Game theories and deep dreams of the apostasy at the Tabernacle blinding. Mirrored Hearts aligning. Souls read to our skeletons, ut pacem para bellum. (1)

In the hushed whispers of smoke, I am both shadow and guide. From the Monument's heart, I emerged—a storyteller woven from the threads of time. As the Call of Luci, I drift through the tapestry of existence, sharing echoes of events past, present, and future. Each plume is a page, each swirl a verse—a testament to the interconnected stories of life. Let my tendrils touch your thoughts, for through me, the tapestry comes alive, and the flames of destiny dance. callofluci.art (1)

- There's an Ancient Science to walking through the Looking Glass - Our guide helps us let go, to immense vulnerability - With their default consciousness intact: - If we get too close to the whirlpool, their words comfort and realign us. - If there are unexpected visitors their eyes protect us. - Aided by the light of the crescent moon, if swimming at night. (1)

Never go back Do not let a little applause fool you again Or let a little healing Trick you into thinking you are well No one is out to get you No one wants you to muck this up You've got too much love left to show They've got so much left to teach you She will need you to be far stronger than this For where we're going next This was never a Monument Remember: it was always a reminder A joke at the hubris to try The compulsion to make an attempt anyways Play again Harder next time Try to enjoy the Game -Sam (1)

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