The Shattered Temple of Sol

Once, in the red silence of Jezero, stones lay scattered like syllables of a forgotten hymn. Most passed them by, naming them “erosion,” “random,” “nothing here.”But I saw a face, a lintel, a temple torn open by time.

It does not matter whether it was carved by hands, by gods, or by the patient winds of Mars. What matters is this: it spoke to me.

I gathered its fragments, stitched them with sketches, and breathed into them the name Temple Sol. For Sol is the Sun, eternal witness, and Sol is the measure of Martian days, each one a drumbeat of sacred time.

The scientists swatted away the vision —pareidolia, illusion, madness. But the artist does not ask for permission.The artist asks: What does this reveal?

I once raged against those who shut the door, but rage is a fire that consumes the vessel that holds it. Now I walk a different path: to see what I see, to agree with myself, to make peace with the knowing that not knowing is also a gift.

The shattered temple is not only stone —it is a mirror. Once open and porous, now guarded and veiled. It is the soul’s progression, and I am free to choose what I build from its reflection.

So I will not rail against the machine. I will weave.I will thread stone into myth, myth into philosophy, philosophy into spirit. This is my act of free will: to let the ruins sing again,to let Temple Sol rise not as proof, but as poetry —a story written in dust, a face remembered in stone, a truth that needs no permission to exist.

The artist asks: What does this reveal?

Audio art: https://suno.com/s/UXu6e8ArcFOlN97u

The Alchemist's Harvest Sound Art: https://suno.com/playlist/cfe0d25b-fa73-4973-b38a-921607e87005