Mortality
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This image was created with the assistance of ChatGPT, using AI-generated visuals based on a detailed description provided by me. Silver stems rise through the earth, crowned with pale stars. It is not the velvet of roses nor the pulse of red poppies, Not the fleeting blush of springtime’s first bloom. Oh, asphodel, do you know
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A pessimistic idea of a loveless life; a fraction of love, a maker of laughs, a simple ignorance, a broken voice; living in stints of wind, reaching for mistakes when none have been made. It is all an idea, a mighty discussion of fragility, a torn record of history. There are those left in the
One Way Life 