An Observation made within Sam Spratt's "IX. The Monument Game" - 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.
