The Exile

Ethereum

ERC-721

Masked Player

Understory

2025-02-24 13:38:06.779 -0600

In the distance stands a figure, his face unmasked and his eyes bare. He received no invitation, though one was deserved. He joined the clamor, but fate was not with him. Now, he watches the party from afar. He judges the revelers—not as part of the council, but for himself. Though the party was held and he did not revel, he observed beauty nonetheless. “Next time,” he thinks, “my worth will be put on display, and I will show the world my eyes.”

Finalist

This gathering is of the imperfect. We submit to judgment, for we are not gods, yet we create and destroy. We revel and lay our souls bare—then wait, until another tears the heart from our sleeve. We are both men and demons, intertwined.

Revelers share their souls for all time—a cacophony. Discourse echoes through the feast. But there, in the distance, linger the uninvited. They are neither less nor more than the attendees. Listen carefully, and you will hear their thoughts on the wind.

Deep in the shadows stand the uninvited—watching and judging, but they are not the Council. Their observations go unrecorded, yet they are not weightless. Danger? Perhaps. Or maybe brilliance that we fail to recognize.

An invitation never came, yet he plays the game nonetheless. Now, he sees—it was always meant for all.

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