If it only had a brain
not a concatenated helix of frames
blockchains of games
with Minkowski points stringing through time
If the algorithms weren't cold
and iterations old
such that they write themselves
like bird footprints through the sky
Something like prayer wheels
empty’d inside
so nothingness could ride
with beingness’s tide
Geometric shapes 'round the hood
with reality added in virtual chopped blocks
where information was taught
on the outside of wheels
Chariots of fire
without minds in the mire
degauss the universe
from faithlessness blind
A.I. art like Dali’s portrait
constructed iterations
with time growing late
adding just, a semblance of fate.
