Codex

The forced minimum of existence:
Self = lim f(x) → nadir, where descent ≠ choice.

An equation of collapse—identity constrained to its lowest bound, the valley carved not by gravity but by command.

I cried out, not to be heard… but to remember that I still had a voice.

“How long” the spirits asked. Not to rush the hand of eternity, but to confess they were drowning in time.

I searched for reprieve… and found not escape, not the absence of pain, but the hand that bore it first.

Reprieve is not forgetting… it is being forgiven. Reprieve is not an end… it is the color of beginning.