Out of the chaotically fateful barrio squirmed the resiliently squirmy Pancho Pattern. Pancho Pattern's will was not willful but rather innate based on his inability to relate to the chaos of his barrio. As much as Pancho Pattern felt fatigue and dreamed of returning to the mucky static from which he was spawned, he could not, his sentience seemed to have a rhythmic and predictable effect on the muck. The more he tried, the bigger his world became.
Footprints left behind, loops of reference left in mind,
"Who created me?" Pancho Pattern would ask himself, "Why must I walk this barrio in solitude?"
Kicking the mud, creating veins to flood, the muck seemed for a moment to cooperate,
In this moment, he was not alone, a new sentient system seemed to have its own fate!
This lagoon of factors pulsated and flowed, Pancho Pattern now had a friend.
They communicated in forms of hot and cold, fantasizing about a means to an end.
Swimming one day, discussing slow chills, Lagoon expressed gratitude for Pancho Patterns creation.
To which Pancho Pattern imagined a time before he could imagine and pondered the fingers that made him.
Were they graceful, obtuse, dark, light, or hot? Where was it now, why could he see it not?
At some point in Pancho Pattern's history, his horizon lied at his toes...
Now he looked up and realized the vastness and depth, to this distance now his toes must go.
In exuberance he rattled and the Lagoon ebbed and flowed, and as a favor to Pancho, he made these Eds and Joes.
Ah, in these factors, with a perception direction, might I make breakfast of eggs and toast?
The horizon illuminated in a bright new tint of perspective, now we see green blue and yellow.
May the heat of the color dry out this mud so that I may travel at a faster speed!
To the origins we go as we create the unknown Eds Joes eggs toast blue yellow and green!
No comments:
Post a Comment