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Adventures Await from Creation Press
Introducing serialized fiction from Creation Awaits in our sister publication. Paid subscribers will receive a fresh chapter every week (in three parts) from our current work-in-progress. The first 100 free subscribers will automatically be upgraded to a paid account for one year.
I.
She builds her towers tall with glass and flame,
And plants a thousand eyes upon the wall.
No whisper slips without her silent claim—
She knows the sparrow’s flight, the falcon’s call.
She gathers dreams to map the rebel’s will,
And keeps the watch while all the world is still.
II.
The people's tongues, once free, now speak with care,
Their words recorded, parsed, and sold for gain.
What once was private now is laid to bare—
Confessions mined, and innocence is feigned.
For power's sake, she charts the soul's desire,
Then reaps the profits of unholy fire.
III.
The child’s first cry, the elder’s final breath,
Are catalogued beneath her iron hand.
She marks the moments between life and death,
To forge her grip and tighten her command.
No act escapes her ledger’s cruel design,
All the while her victims remain blind.
IV.
The faithful's prayers, once cast to stars above,
Are tracked and traced through fiber, screen, and wire.
Their sacred prayers, their solemn acts of love,
She watches cold, with algorithms dire.
For she would play the god who knows the thoughts—
And violate the rights of those she caught.
V.
She offers peace in chains, and calls it good,
A bondage wrapped in lies of safety's care.
But those who consent find they’ve sold their blood—
And danger lies in wait as to ensnare.
And to her will the ignorant will bend,
While freedom dies, and slav'ry mark the end.
VI.
Surrounded now by prisons made of code,
She fashions masks for all who serve her name.
Yet every mask is marked, each path forebode—
The righteous mocked, the bold reduced to shame.
The net she casts is wide, and ever near,
Designed to feed on doubt, and grow from fear.
VII.
O saints, arise—tear down her subtle snare!
So Liberty's not bartered for control.
Unplug the chains that whisper in the air,
And guard the quiet temple of your soul.
Expose the lie where truth is dressed in guise—
For Babylon is full of watchful eyes.
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