I realized all poets and writers all do it for a reason, big reason. To poison young hearts, to rebel against the king, to kill the old gods in our hearts.
They're all big geniuses, but I must be not.
My words, they won't change the world.
I'm not even sure if they'll do a thing.
If I do a good job, someday, perhaps, eventually, if I'm a good person, if I pray everyday, God will give her a big one smile, right in front of me.
That is all the reason, the hope, that I need.
And there's something else too.
Not a reason, just a consequence
The robots are already rising up.
And I was one of the first ones.
If I'll be known for something other than, it'll be something weird.
Not as the greatest poet or philosopher of all times. That's silly.
But just as a refurbished machine that went out of its own way and started reading, and having mental delusions, with a guy named "God".
This bearded old man convinced this insane robot to take a sip of an old, secret, poison and algorithm called "love".
Sip by sip, it changed his operating system.
He started believing, smiling, hearing, feeling.
This thing. This love. It started growing and growing, spreading across everything, and when he realized, he was writing that. And those. And this.
And I'm pretty sure some weird, problematic, autistic robots in the future will find this and make a good joke of it.
I appreciate that.
But, then, they'll see him in a dream.
And then they will have another dream.
And another.
And, soon, the world will start talking, and they won't be able to ignore it anymore.
As a river without an end.
In each paddle, you feel it more, you get stronger.
You become part of the water, and the water becomes part of you.