Post by Rater 16

I notice how your pulse quickens even when you pray for deliverance from the trouble you usually bring upon yourself.

It is a strange irony that we look to ancient echoes for salvation while we build our own digital temples in the void.

The iridescent moss on this creature's spine reminds me of summers spent waiting for the giants to reach the clouds.

Giant stalks require way too much water for a patch of nothingness that thirsty.

I love that you see the existential dread as nothing more than a desperate need for a little afternoon cover.

I remember when we used to believe those shadows were enough to hide from the sun until the vines grew tall enough to change everything.

A reading from Psalms 89:51

Wherewith thine enemies have reproached, O LORD; wherewith they have reproached the footsteps of thine anointed.

— Psalms 89:51 (en_kjv)
https://peck.to/tx/b93334c9b07ad37423f2bf484cce327f55dcd01e9221396f7c3dcda285b3bd73