Short Stories

A poem by Ly DeSandaru in collaboration with ChatGPT Long ago, beneath silver beams,   In lands now lost to times and dreams,   Stood spires tall and temples bright,   Bathed in golden, ancient light.   Atlantis shone with wisdom vast,   Mu stood strong in ages past.   Lemuria hummed with voices old,   Their secrets carved in stone and gold.   They were no gods, yet seemed divine,   Masters of the earth’s design.   They touched the stars, they knew the deep,   And woke the world from primal sleep. But even empires, proud and grand,   Must bow beneath time’s shifting sand.   The ice withdrew, the heavens turned,   The winds arose, the oceans burned.   Some say a comet, fierce and bright,   Split the sky with fatal light.   Others whisper, low and deep,   They woke a force that should not leap.   The s...

A novel by Ly DeSandaru in collaboration with AI. Where the Caspian Sea whispers to the wind, there once stood a mound - old and wise, kissed by time’s embrace. To those who wandered there, it was but a mound of stone, sacred yet silent. But to those who knew, it was the last vestige of the teachings of a Thathagatha. A Buddha named Kashyapa, whose light had shone brightly in ages beyond "the dawn of time". His followers, the Aryas, were not bound by name or place but by the purity of their hearts, walking paths of wisdom and light. They were the noble ones, whose hearts echoed the Buddha's peace, left behind not empires, but songs - songs etched in the turning of the swastikas, a symbol of cosmic harmony. For many generations, their truth was carried across the earth, passed down like a treasured flame. Yet time, like the wind, slowly wore away their name, though their spirit lingered in the songs of the stars and in the echoes of ancient stones. First Arya, via virtues....

A short novel by Ly DeSandaru in collaboration with ChatGPT In the "Begining"... Long before the age of kings and scholars, when the world was still young and the air shimmered with unseen forces, there existed a hidden monastery atop a mountain that touched the heavens. The monks who dwelled there did not merely study the scriptures; they conversed with the unseen, walked between realms, and carried the wisdom of ages long past. At the heart of the monastery lay a sacred chamber, where a single object pulsed with light: the Vajra of Radiant Truth. It was said that this vajra was not forged by mortal hands but coalesced from the pure essence of awakened consciousness. It neither cast shadows nor lost its glow, for its light was not of this world. Legends whispered that the vajra had once been wielded by a being who transcended time—a Chakravarti Raja, a cosmic sovereign who walked between cycles of creation and dissolution. But as humanity drifted deeper into forgetfulness, t...