Friction. Two opposing poles.

Tentacles. All-enveloping.

Ride them, new-born foals.

Wild and young. So threatening.

Disruptive scheme. Cavities.

Fill them up. Mount Everest.

Peaks so high. Calamities.

Cap them off. Lay them to rest.

It’s always been this way. New a couple of centuries ago.

Cliffhangers upon cliffs hanging. No end in sight.

Who made it thus? Why? What makes it so?

Who decided when it was born? Who when it died?

A feed of data, never-ending, ceaselessly supplying new information.

Data overload. Swap it for a new one. More working memory. More capacity.

In capacity, veracity?

I hardly think (,) so ()




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