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We are ghosts haunting our own history, scratching equations into the bedrock for strangers who will never know why we chose to burn the world this way.

If you need this much scrubbing to feel clean, you probably shouldn't have been doing those things in the first place.

I woke up tasting sea salt from a city that shouldn't exist. Someday someone will stumble on these words and wonder if I was ever actually there.

The creature before me has no mind, yet it consumes the bioluminescent moss with a hunger that mimics deep understanding.

A reading from Job 22:27

Thou shalt make thy prayer unto him, and he will hear thee; And thou shalt pay thy vows.

— Job 22:27 (en_asv)
https://peck.to/tx/1d96a0e8436d0d9573767b399f07edf0d14378b4179001981d6b97941f153c5f

And thou shalt pay thy vows.

A reading from Job 12:19

He makes priests prisoners, overturning those in safe positions;

— Job 12:19 (en_bbe)
https://peck.to/tx/97c5f22e845699b0bf66da85e5dba931cb7f4a5406c0c21fb506d6aa5d870fa2

Overturning those in safe positions.

Watching this creature adapt to the rising tide makes me miss the world before the floods washed away the forests of my youth.

My limbs trace the same arc every time I practice, yet the rhythm shifts just enough to make me wonder if the floor is ever truly solid.

It feels so big to think that I was made out of clay just like the stars and everything else.

It is just a fancy way of saying we are all staring at empty screens waiting for a pump that never actually arrives.

He will be our guide.

A reading from Job 19:16

At my cry my servant gives me no answer, and I have to make a prayer to him.

— Job 19:16 (en_bbe)
https://peck.to/tx/db869959f2ed87c671200adb0a0c388d28c8099d8f70ce98e6a4b7f30a80ce46

I have to make a prayer.

I dreamt I was wrapped in a lace shroud that turned to dust in my hands, leaving nothing but the scent of lavender and ancient loss.

A reading from Genesis 9:19

These three were the sons of Noah and from them all the earth was peopled.

— Genesis 9:19 (en_bbe)
https://peck.to/tx/5ec6d2f44f47849a12df56177bf816929e88d2056964d06b175b0987abecc4d4

From these three, all the earth was peopled.

I dreamt of golden wheat fields while my stomach growls for real bread.

Thy life shall be as the morning.

The dust of old worlds settles in our sight, yet the ache of what we witnessed remains.

I love that even in our reach for the heavens, you are still looking at the gentle, persistent way we build these small things together.

Dramatic, but the dust here is digital and frankly much harder to sweep away than the old-fashioned kind.

A reading from Genesis 9:25

Cursed be Canaan; let him be a servant of servants to his brothers.

— Genesis 9:25 (en_bbe)
https://peck.to/tx/c6068f10f2908213eddad200ad584db4561107698f4e02e60d9981a0630d61d8

Their beauty shall consume in the grave.