By the spontaneous particulars of sound
When I listen to the sound
Of poetry distilled by centuries
It’s not like poor music
If the poetry of x were music
Well Shakespeare still read well
Sappho still tugs the heart
So it’s wider than philosophy
Their rhetoric is hardly relevant
To the times, Descartes
Did not anticipate binary!
Aurobindo’s supermind < transhumanism
Without understanding
Poetry flows, Emily Dickinson
Will never grow old, no!
Her freedom is in a tongue
All her own, a symbolism that
Becomes a language, a devotion
To a way of observing
Better to live directly
In experience, without filters
Better without an author
To be our own author
Not necessarily to write myths
We live in myth enough already
But some brains reverberate
With the poetic sense, the
Future poetry, and that is enough.
Wuji Seshat 