ill-usion

Yesterday, I watched evolution from atop a storm cloud, removed from the ground by the winds of meta-linguistics. As I pondered pondering I noticed a human-like steel figure lying on the dampened soil. He watched passer-bys with the judgmental eyes of one who knows no emotion. They were drawn to him and so he drew them solutions to their problems in paint and passion. They walked away satisfied. He sighs, blinks static thoughts of in-decisions lost and won, recycled in green plastic bins and resold to the neuron earth they grew up in. Choices are TEC-9 year old girls holding metallic jump ropes and he’s waltzing in place to their silent rhythm. I am his thoughts. He does not feel, knowing only the logic of how emotion ought to be. I am enamored, knowing only I can witness such a scene from the storm’s eye. Eyes locked between barren earth and flooded dirt cannot see the whole picture-esque beauty of machine becoming man becoming machine.

I have yet to fall.