The Greater Rheoridin Cosmos

we called it the Sentreyek Growth

The question unknown, we give our answers still.A derelict space elevator, reaching into the cosmos beyond. Steel scaffolding, rot with rust and mold, weaving a lattice. It trailed behind the horizon, an artifice to ambitions and dreams of escape, its enclosure scattered with hints of our pasts.Empty streets, littered with things discarded, ruins now forgotten, abandoned in hurry. Pastures shredded by viperous winds as it circles the globe, as it ripped apart the earth deep furrows with its tracks.We were changed. We are not what we once were. The tower stands testament.Our dreams form countless worlds. It was the Dreamer who formed the world. Our dreams pay our toll to live in its world. The Dreamer had been made, constructed, a phantom for our flaws.But we don't dream anymore. Not for ourselves. And should we try to separate from the Growth, we find the price was already paid.It stares at us in their absence. A dark pupil, imprinted on our insides. We see ourselves in visions of bodies mired in filaments, muscle fibers, unable to break free.An empty apartment complex, rooms furnished, lights on. Marble kitchens and clusters of lounge chairs, twinkling chandeliers and gold-painted spirals, ornamental fruit and bursts of ficus. There are no windows. It descends down and down and down. We can see it. We see it patrolling. We can't really see it at all, fading like water blots in the mid-morning sun.We split the world as it resets. We split the world to gain a foothold. But our reflection is only a new enemy. They abandoned us to our fate.We invent ourselves and discard ourselves. Metal bodies that do not have dreams to give over. We crowned them with jewels and perfumes, marking a triumph, yet, still, it found a way in.A dark, writhing mass, fracturing all colors and forms. The tree twisted as it grew, rooting itself in the world as a paradox. We were fools.Deep underground, we bury the remains of our efforts. Found again, we will find ourselves again. We will make ourselves again. We will recognize the pattern.There is no meaning but change. There is no law but circumstance. We exist within structures not our own.