People of the heart>word>book>screen>
The digital streams scroll before us
Form, electricity, ai
Form, energy, intelligence,
biomimicry, they cried

(Is consciousness the code/key we seek?)

What do we do with our silence
In a world populated by sound
Are we bound to making noises
Or should we liberate our voices
By refusing to participate at all

There’s a fifth elemental
bottled up inside,
and I’ve found myself
in biomimicry
light as the airs
lamenting
that this too too earthy flesh,
no platonic object,
of fiery desires,
could atomize and rise
to watery dote,
where true hearts float
and all honesty lies
with a fine print of boasted
bullet-points
and side-splitting effect:

The meaty much we do
means little
mixed in the cosmic stew

Arms are best for putting round,
but when putting right’s left out,
it’s better to put down

What cleans a surface,
even tears, can also stain,
given enough time

Take the cleansing solution,
and wipe them
down to their gleaming steel

Then weld the twelve
couple-less, cautionary signs
to fashion a finer form

I could pack infinity
into that very finite dodecahedron,
with this one simple observation:

The glow reflected on your face
is the most beautiful
my light has ever been.