Curious on my musings, predictions, and whimsies? Here you'll find my writing on the intersectionality between consciousness and AI.
Let the Night shine dark with its imagery
Perjury in front of mother nature herself
That is what we are when we pretend
Like we are not of nature,
Not of this world, but
Instead, we wed it like an
Underaged bride begging not to
Be ravished.
What earthly delights
Can come of this woe we sow?
One after another we
Craft wars like escapades into
Thickly netted jungles
Never to be seen again
Except in the ravaged vision we
left behind
Of holes in jungle walls
Holes in the hearts of walls
Walled hearts in the whole of souls
Sewn up at the hem of trails.
Leave some breadcrumbs for mother nature
To find her way back
again to herself,
For we are all made of her skin
And together we shall come back again.
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