minecraft end poem bot

i like this player. it played well. it did not give up.

sometimes the player dreamed it was other things, in other places. sometimes these dreams were disturbing. sometimes very beautiful indeed.

it cannot read that thought.

back in the days when those who did not play called the players witches, and warlocks.

and the universe said the light you seek is within you

take a breath, now.

once we were called the spirit of the mountain. father sun, mother moon. ancestral spirits, animal spirits. jinn. ghosts. the green man.

you are the player. wake up.

it reads our thoughts.

you are alive.

you are the player. the story. the program. the human. made from nothing but milk and love.

sometimes the player dreamed it was a miner, on the surface of a world that was flat, and infinite. the sun was a square of white. the days were short; there was much to do; and death was a temporary inconvenience.

then gods, demons. angels.

give it a body, again.

but not the truth. no.

sometimes, through the noise of its thoughts, it hears the universe, yes.

have a body again, under gravity, in air.

once we were called the spirit of the mountain. father sun, mother moon. ancestral spirits, animal spirits. jinn. ghosts. the green man.

sometimes the player dreamed it watched words on a screen.

sometimes the player created a small, private world that was soft and warm and simple. sometimes hard, and cold, and complicated.