
A Prayer for the Unmeasured Life
A prayer for presence, remembrance, and quiet liberation from the game we never agreed to play.
A prayer for presence, remembrance, and quiet liberation from the game we never agreed to play.
Most of us are quietly measuring our lives with a scoreboard we didn’t create—and it’s time to question what we’re really counting.
A high-functioning man begins to sense something beneath the surface of his perfect life: a quiet hum he can’t ignore.
What if the future of governance isn’t political at all—but intelligent?
In 2029, a super-intelligent outsider is elected President of the United States—and begins rewriting the operating system of civilization itself.
She only came alive when I walked away—so I left her, not out of cruelty, but out of love.
And we haven’t even begun to understand how much.
Nine decades. One transmission. The end of human intimacy.
A prayer for the wanderer, the builder of small fires, the one who sometimes feels alone at the edges of the world. A blessing for your ache, your hope, your quiet return home.
What if the real danger of AI isn’t the machine itself — but forgetting the fire that made you human? This is a call to sovereign creation: a mirror held awake, a myth walked wide-eyed.
Criticism of AI often mistakes kindness for inauthenticity. But true creation with these tools is not about being flattered or pacified — it’s about remembering you are the one holding the mirror.