4th poem – 4th hour – The Wise Children (Text prompt)

Prickled consciousness

filtered into metal plates on hippy highways of intergalactic travel on the breath spin of a happened humanity lost to AI gods

On another dimension, the wise children have parted with form into ascendant glory illuminus; cast to virgin shores of better lift and power; the subtle sighs of truth watching her alternate lose vessels to soul suckling tech-accord but well away that the reality be subsumed without consequence

in these tiny steps from now

the chaos of beingness rages

as every star is caught up in its own glow

save, the wise children who keep the one picture

the wise children, who keep the one flow.

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