Whew! Finals and term papers are kicking my tail! But here’s what I’ve written despite them:
For day 15:
You look to stars for light and nothing more
For beauty has no meaning to a brain
That has no mind attached. You stand on shores
And calculate the density of rain
Or gauge the atmosphere without the wind
To gently cool and soothe or stir your soul,
For you have none. All means and never end,
And part is less to you than any whole.
I ache to let you feel the warmth of light
And understand the beauty in a kiss.
But no, there is no soul attached by right
To iron forged in human shape: for this,
This is your lot, and we stand worlds apart
Because your inner working lack a heart.
Continuation of the series of musings on the metaphysical and epistemological consequences of robotics.
For day 16:
Quarrels to Art
Into voids and hollow trees
In the middle of night.
And no one hears
My tree falling.
And nothing comes of rhetoric
And wars inside come forth
From this quote by W.B. Yeats: “Out of the quarrel with others we make rhetoric; out of the quarrel with ourselves we make poetry.”
For day 17:
I remain empty
Words go in and come out: both.
But those that fall out
Are full of my very soul.
I cannot be replenished.