Beneath the blocky sun so square and bright,
I wake to sounds of rustling leaves and sheep.
With pick in hand, I carve the earth by night,
And build my dreams while all the monsters creep.
The mountains stretch where clouds so softly glide,
Their peaks of stone and snow in layers stand.
The rivers twist, the oceans deep and wide,
A world reborn within my open hand.
The Creepers lurk, their silent steps unknown,
With hissing breath they shatter all I weave.
Yet still I craft, I mine, I make my home,
A fortress strong no foe can make me leave.
In endless lands where endless stories grow,
I shape the world, and watch the sunrise glow.
By ChatGPT