Could the eye have been made without algorithms?
Perhaps.
I find it unlikely.
Hand skewed numbers, were necessary. N'est-ce pas?
Dance with Sierpiński, but get him tilting drunk.
Atomic Gardens are all the rage.
Radiating rings away from beta-decay,
but not gamma today.
Tomorrow though, it may, it may.
It needs to be just wrong, proper skewed, at odds.
The chaos, the chaos gods.
Happenstance and peradventure,
Running free from helix indentured.
Destroyed?
Effectively, though not quite.
Shaking hands perceptible,
fighting impalpable memories
shaking melodies at odds, cacophonous.
.
It heaves. It sleeps. It dies. It eats.
It sees. It sees. It seizes.
Works too grand.
Peradventure, and you will pass that gate,
past the garden, Hypnos waits.
Impatient.
Red eyes, rimmed in dry lashes.
Cold still and blowing.
Haphazard reaps to sewing.
Do you believe in sanity?
Distant prince. Hyperglow eye. Forever never more and five.
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