There is beauty in baselessness. It’s undefined, an exponential without foundation, and in the absence of definition, there is only creation. What does it mean to explore the meaningless, to make meaning from the mundane? Constructs of community and curiosity buttress the armrests of emperors. What becomes of their destruction?
Some say they wish to see the world burn; some wish to light a blaze beneath them.
Others taste the flames in search of ashes, dig through the depths to hedge the phoenix and its feathers, leave the embers in disarray as they build up the burned behemoths of history. Like Prometheus, they feel the sting of silent suffering and the teeth of consequence. They bleed not for bloodshed, but for birth.