There Is A Desert, And A City, A Long Way From Here, From Anywhere. It Is Hot, Beneath The Gaze Of A

There is a desert, and a City, a long way from here, from anywhere. It is hot, beneath the gaze of a titanic star, all red lashing and mile-long-shadows.

Vast, fossilized rock carved by howling winds stands in sentinel defense across endless marching eons. Jagged broken mountain peaks, shifting dunes, gloomy shadowed canyons.

But—there is something else. Something across the sands. The City. An ancient metropolis far larger than anything built on Earth, by human hands. It’s immensity dwarfs Giza and her pyramids, Greek Colossi, Aztec ziggurats. Polished-black rock spires, twisted and warren-filled coliseums, gleaming bronze skyscrapers studded by uncountable lightless windows. It is a City of a hundred billion souls. And it appears empty. It isn’t. Shadows linger. Huge, dark eyes peer out from tight stone avenues and yawning, gaping archways.

Whispering winds hide quiet, dreamlike voices.

Cataclysm is beautiful, and painful. Great things rose from the molten stone, the crashing seas, the wailing skies; even the howling void sculpted things and breathed life into its newborns. Thrum, thrum, thrum went the heartbeat of the world, beating, thundering. Hungry. Alive. Savage.

Extinction

A memory that wakes me in the night.

Panic and fear.

A midnight dark throbbing; lanced through its dark heart with shimmering pulsing silver-violet rays.

Clouds lit up from above and shivering—shunted aside by unseen butchering.

Singular silent star kissing dark horizon: bathing all in eerie brightness, mushrooming up and outward.

Then, silence. A silent world entombed—

Loudness. Final draconian breath so thunderous I am deafened in a moment. Wrenched downwards, the world flung away—

Hissing nothingness in my sensitive ears—

Half-open eyes to look upward one last moment as raging cataclysm boils its way forward, forward, forward—

Skin burnt and atomized, bones swept away to ash, feathery quills and scaly armor obliterated-

The Tyrant, Regal-Eternal

Come and marvel at my obsidian bones.

See my mighty jaws swallow the mountains long after I can bite, my shattering roars crumble the sky even without vocal cords.

Midnight feathers ripple on ebony scales, riveting even in death, phantoms summoned by awe to once again quiver atop my cathedral skeleton.

Look upon me and tremble, and fear, and desire. Witness.

Many prone before me in this grand tomb of stone and metal. I hear their prayers, their wishes. Even so long after I have perished, my Reign continues in the imagination, in the soul..

I am a Primeval King, I am an unending God, I am a force of the Earth herself.

Forever.

A Goddess Reborn

Genetic mastery born in pale rooms, supercooled tubules, splicing molecular blades.

Ritualistic stones carved from ebony stratum, arranged in holy circles, blessed by primeval energies.

Fossil skeletons adorn the pillars, the cathedral, the halls, the laboratories, the sanctums. Golden-geode bones whispering down countless aeons.

Canticle praises sing resurrection prayers in science and magic.

They wish to summon something. Something vast. Something terrible. It’s behemoth bones stretch across a megalithic tomb, splayed in divine death pose, endless jaws open forever. Claws reaching, talons splayed, tail curved overhead. A dragon god. Waiting down the ages for new flesh, revitalized blood.

A God will be reborn.

Soon...

Soon..

Soon.

Now.

Machine Divinity

My hull is dark as night, a midnight black knife endlessly perfect.

Orbiting metal flows like liquid eternity; dancing into spikes, thorns, haloes, banners, blades..

My crimson sensors glow and pulse, rythmically vibrant, deep like blood. Information falls into my many wells with riveting complexity. Beyond minds of the flesh.

I am perfect.

I am Synthetic.