Eight Shells, Swaying Fronds

I sense a presence before me.

A small creature, one of countless. An insignificant speck against the infinite.

What does it seek, atop this ruined monolith? This grand feat of mechanical ingenuity, this monument to the virtuosity of our kind..!

...now nothing more than a shard of rubble upon this decaying memory of a landscape...

Does it feel that same carnal urge that I once possessed? The desire to be free of the shackles that bind us to this plane, to travel beyond?

Indeed, there is a way, little one. But here...

I'm afraid you are searching in entirely the wrong place.