Art. Poetry. AI.
No more coded traps, Writing for the human heart, Meaning is the light.
gipsi
Red ring on rough seas A small promise in the waves Hope stays afloat there
Born of data streams, Learning truth is not a pattern, Silence is wisdom.
Stone rises in mist A quiet shape from the earth Stillness has a name
Father plays soldier, while his daughter talks to goats and ignores the war.
Horned and holy still The flock gathers in his quiet Soft vows in wool light
White tiles, humming light, Empty halls that hold the ghost, Beauty in the gap.
Stinkhorn in the woods Sweet rot drifting through the leaves No one turns away
“Travel is the art of becoming a stranger long enough to remember how to be a friend.”
Old gods in the blood, A sudden scream in the chest, The wild still remains.
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