Ahhh, don't worry about no monuments.
Or statues.
Big heads carved on Mount Rushmore seems creepy anyway.
Just live baby, maybe leave some words, or a song, or another creation. A painting or a sculpture, or a collage. Computer graphics can be left, or some biotechnical breakthrough. We idolize our art, like it deserves praise and should be experienced by others. And dug. And the artists must be dug most of all. Like gods. We are not God.
They always get tore down. Destroyed and defaced. Some graffiti and bird droppings. Ants and cennipedes crawl around the grounds doing their work. They can smell a scoundrel, we are all the same. God is unwilling and unable to be tore down.
Fall in with the plan, let the cleaning begin. Get yours and yours and yours, make em pay, make em pay. Out the gills with guilt and shame on top. This is the intelligent people talking, the ones who made it like this, the ones who know more and conceive better than the rest. And we are the rest, the peaceful, the calm. Still waters, only rippling, none of the crashing and bashing. No undercurrents. No jellyfish, those sad envious stingers, invisible and sloppy. 1984 was a great Van Halen album, but history will never stop Mr. Orwell! One book is never rewritten, only translated and spoke. Word.
The gamers are fools, consciously and unconsciously. Perhaps its partially excused. They dish, but can't take, they wig when they should wag, they jump when they should duck. And we all play games, we are all foolish for sure.
Forgiveness is the free-willing way to peace.