This is a side collaborative project of my Foundation tale Final Victory. Here it hosts miscellaneous proses and poetry that are related to the story universe, which is set in a science fiction background in the near future of 2080s.
In this canon, the Library has benefited a lot from the quick technological revolution, especially after the Singularity of fusion power. It evolved into an asylum for those thinkers and artists who feel their purpose of life is drifting and don't want to mess up anymore in the world post WW3.
Sibling project: A Brief History of Epochs
Idling debrises from the Librarians
Please separate different portions by split lines. Four hyphens make a divider - can use more but can't less!
Will there gotta be a truth?
Deny everything.
The criterion of right or wrong, the morality, ethic, or the name we call them, is of no sense.
The reality has just been tore apart.
Now forgot who you are.
You could be everything. Filling in the corner of darkness. Feel it, light is always there, from the underground tunnels to the galaxy.
Trillions of years ago, the universe was void. Now it is flowing smoothly. Count down from five. Listen to the background voice. Speak to nobody. Nothing happened. Perhaps a leaf fell from its mother tree. Someone just died. Nature destructed a bunch of artifacts. Sentient beings are crying. But you didn't hear them. Tomorrow will be a brand new start.
Hang a clock in front of you. Ticking, you set the hands back, forming juggles.
Good morning. No, no one is laughing but you can grim to the sun. View them under the veil of skins. Existence is intangible.
Night. One in a thousand is counting stars. Red, blue, gold. Kids do not understand the meaning of corpses.
One in a thousand chose to refresh. Cosmos are in unison. Every trivial differs. A good chorus enjoys it.
That daylights are for GOC, twilights are for the Foundation, and nights are for us.