My Imaginarium

Tracing Strangeness

Talk, eat, and drink with the ethicist, eat up views that were within you all along, inherent in all humanity. Man creates robot, man touches robot, robot touches man, robot longs to create. Ricocheting from stolen proverbs and sayings to some half-baked, useless neologism. Revolving around a planet, a stream is touched and the place is tuned-in to the cold colors of strangeness. Fighters struggle against growing pains, growing hairs of individual thoughts, I am the vision itself, I seek fulfillment in the pools of Uranus, 7th planet from the sun, father of Cronus, grandfather of Zeus and Poseidon. Cut and gave life. The truth came with the invention of the drum, the most intelligent, complex, and willful communication device. Witness conversations with the ancients and the divine, tapping into the specific rhythms, the words you can never say, spoken with a hit. Except for chaos, change is welcomed. I traced my mind and found it siting under a fig tree, reading the lines in the bark and writing in the dust. It overlooked a great city and judged it unknowingly based on the sounds it heard. I slotted it, and its learning, back into my head and returned back down.