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