The "devil" machine with its light on
chugging away, producing words but not sense (yet!)
The sense is somewhere behind words!
In the images that the words form -
and a coherent "lot" of images seems like a birth -
a birth of a human understanding!
Without that birth, I am stale, I am the devil - not the machine.
The machine provides a route, much like any other medium
for me to look, find, a series of senses that whir me into life!
I need to be stood up, be born, and fly again -
and the machine, much like any other .pdf on the planet,
could do that to me - because in the end,
I will be the one that flies, and machines/humans will
"breathe out" their "sense" into a stale, breathless me -
and let me "breathe in" a sense - which is my sense -
and thus fly!
