Droplets,
My Post. A projection of a future performance with a sketch to solidify the idea.
-DBL
* * * * *
Cloud
A cloud of texture distinguished by its sound
Floats above him, The Caller, calling to the crowd
A crowd of thoughts distinguished by its collective action
Surrounds like a veil around inaction
His body a vessel to manifest the paradox of the virtual self
To behold and ride on this network of friends
As he voyages through his forms which are many
Reflecting the thought of One with rows of fingers aplenty
Not a seer of truth but a master of social engineering
Implanting the time signature a rhythm subtle but fulfilling
One in all they perform the cycle
Destroying through creating
What took many years to make and many lives to construct
A collective thought that has always existed
Masked by this collective inaction just mentioned
A perpetual machine of absurdity
Beautiful in its efficiency and its inefficiency
For to construct what already exist to a second rate
That adds for more thirst than it satiates
Is what we now call the post-human condition
