Artificial Voidless

Whirl of colors and sounds, singing, luring, like sirens, to the consciousness. Slaughtering ideias, deflecting to the new. No! Worse! To the well known. Feeble, irresolute resistence: good-for-nothing, powerless and dull. It only waits! The pleasures, known and treacherous, echo... And not before a scandal outbursts and fades its colors. Not before it silences it. Until then, what to do? Powerless and dull— I pity. Pixabay

Glimpsing a better future, I follow my heart; and it, wisely, teaches my son how to recognize his goals and how to perceive distractions as distractions. — Meanwhile, I, distracted, ask myself: this heart, to whom does it belong? Can the unknown be glimpsed? What is my goal? Pikist

You fought victorious in many battles, not giving up. You conquered riches, honor and fame. I'm really proud of you. There're people supporting you and you found your true love. When the most challenging task was given, there was no doubt you'd make it. In the end of the longest journey, however, you failed... you turned into a dubious memory and I've become you. Now I can see that many of your victories were pointless and the only reason you didn't lose more battles, is simply because you ran away from them. Your beliefs revealed your lack of courage; and your fears, your weaknesses. Vice disguised as virtue; barbarian as hero. I still feel proud of you, but also pity. Your tale ended, but I'm still in it. This battle now is mine. Photo: Wagner Machado Carlos   The above poem was written by me in 2020. Later on, I asked ChatGPT to write a follow-up: I inherited your legacy, your story and your name But as I look back on your journey, I see the bitter shame You

Books are really fascinating. They can link me to the most brilliant minds. Put me in front of all sorts of human emotion. Tragedies, philosophies and forgotten gods that can teach so much. I start to make sense of this nonsense I've got used to see. Human history is at my hands, I can feel its weight and barbs. I can absorb ancient knowledge and modern science. And find myself amongst all these theories, languages, paradoxes, Literature, conflicts, modes of existence. I think I'm starting to understand , yes, I am! I'm as important as the protagonist of an epic story. And as insignificant as a speck of dust in an old place. I'm coming to realize where science leads or leads not. What wisdom teaches or teaches not. What I am — if anything at all. Losing myself surrounded by of all this. Rightful citizen, guiding father, grateful son. Dutiful worker, loving husband. Peaceful distress. Photo: Michelle Ress

Unfamiliar place, somewhere dark.  A cold touch reveals a gentle breeze flowing in.  What is more, it hints at where to look for myself. More is coming. A faint feeling. This time elsewhere. The numbness is finally giving in. There is some pressure and warmth now. Sensation's resumed, if only timidly, bringing a body into existence. I look into that window, through it, only to find that breeze once again. The darkness lessens and gives way to a dim light. It's daybreak.  Only now can I fully wonder who I am.

When thoughts rise and take place, I come to think, I come to see, Spring up, before me! A hummingbird, I say! In front of me, it is. It can fly in the air, can't it? Front or back, air or void, I can't really tell. Fly so high! Swoop down again! I can picture it from any angle! That little bird and me: it's a tangle. The thought is now done with. I can't help but leave this world. Photo: Frank Cone