Stained Glass Armor I never dreamed I would don the translucent technicolor mosaic story of our origin. Born forged in earthen dragon pits of rage-heat, I was never one for the battle. But looking incredible? I’ve always been one for good looks. O look, when I was offered to join the Cathedralpunk Knights of the Table for All, how could I turn down iconic kaledescopic clothing? The absurd coat of arms of actual arms splaying a wreath linked by hands, held for me, a soldered circle of soldiering solidarity for beautiful renewable futures blossoming. Now, who, now, I’m duty bound to protect— looks towards Then, & then towards Future, who demands everything change. Okay. So there’s a lot happening— on the line, on this armor, on our world on fire. The dark is setting in: the bright is shining through. After inducted into the order of kin—that's what I learned, what’s illuminated within me is just a shard of it: a mess- age in liquid fate we are literally now just compiling, see, a mosaic, mix collecting pieces, collage in earth’s ether, real as the colors you can't even imagine. Folks who care join with us— even as multi-chromatic horrors abound. Even as we don multi-chromatic horrors generated by algorithms generated by generations stealing dreams. Ekphrastic poem written after the Midjourney “AI” image output of the prompt, “Stained Glass Armor”
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