#poetry %%A man, partly robot, his screw are falling apart and has grown old. He is tired and exhausted of his life, his energy is fading away under the bright sky of the day, painting by Picasso.%% ![[88b2ea0b-82ca-45ce-9736-bb9a268434f9-0-1237702938.png]] Light-winged Smoke, Icarian bird, Melting thy pinions in thy upward flight, Lark without song, and messenger of dawn, Circling above the hamlets as thy nest; %%A magnificent eagle flying over astonished men under a sparkling sun, painting by Van Gogh, ultra beautiful.%% ![[2bd3c567-f481-4cc9-a5b8-5fb5caec7db3-0-459310563.png]] Or else, departing dream, and shadowy form Of midnight vision, gathering up thy skirts; By night star-veiling, and by day Darkening the light and blotting out the sun; %%A beautiful dream, shadows moving around under a cloudy sky. Digital art 4K%% ![[32ebf2de-0cdc-45f8-af5d-c16984c79b6f-0-4294341659.png]] Go thou my incense upward from this hearth, And ask the gods to pardon this clear flame Raise the next generation of gods; And let them know, if they will come to thee, That I have sacrificed a bull to them, To ensure the continuation of the species. Man is hard-wired for this, From the time he is born to the time he dies. %%A dead bull, a crying baby next to it in the field illuminated by a sparkling sun, a beautiful day, painting by Van Gogh.%% ![[4c2b9496-2c94-4a32-9a1d-536646494529-0-3875641827.png]] It is the way of the world, And has been since the dawn of time. He is not made to last, He is made to be used up and discarded. He is but an ephemere, A fleeting moment in time. %%The melting clock.%% ![[a0a1913a-16c3-4b16-9e5a-e8bc543bad39-0-578982516.png]] He is not made to love, He is not made to be loved. He is but a tool, A means to an end. He is not made to be happy, He is not made to be sad. He is but a machine, A cog in the wheel. %%A meaningless machine.%% ![[aad208b2-0685-4545-8a28-35d08f3b7a6f-0-2710528200.png]] He is not made to feel, He is not made to think. He is but a tool, A means to an end. The end game is all that matters, The means are irrelevant. We are born, we live, we die. Our bodies break down, our minds deteriorate. We are forgotten, our memories fade. We are gone, leaving only our legacy behind. What matters is what we leave behind, Our impact on the world, Our legacy, Our purpose There is light beyond the chemical automaton, ![[Pasted image 20221009163200.png]] There is warmth beyond the flaming furnace, There is love beyond the love of money. Our legacy is to remember these things, Our purpose is to keep these things alive.