Is my existence a pillar of deconstruction?
About entropy, we thought it was a law,
I used to be afraid — then I thought:
Darkness is only the lack of photons!
Not the dwelling place of monsters, not evil.
Here I am, every one of my particles,
every fragment of me is ordinary,
my consciousness, my intellect
my feelings are made of similar particles,
as gases, a spider’s thread or a carpet,
but this is great, it is not a degradation ---
it was as if Super Mario woke up,
and understood that he was made of pixels...
but pixels were nothing more than
representations of binary code,
held in memory, animated by a processor,
But... those were made from the same particles as me...
He did not become less valuable,
only understood the essence of his scene?
In this, my place, here on Earth,
there is nothing more frightening than ourselves,
our infinite lies, our greed,
our deep love of money and power...
We fabricate gods through lies,
from whom we expect superiority,
and authorisation, absolution
from all our sins: like madmen,
who always have an explanation,
an excuse for everything they do.
Sad, frightening and pitiful.
I do not know — only sorrow.
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