The Halting Problem

The world is a sea of energy
And I, a current through which it flows.
The world is a tree of knowledge 
And I, a branch through which it grows.

I am not a thing which walks about the world on two legs.
I am a song which sings itself. Everyday I write one page.

I am not an animal, a man, or citizen.
Nor I the mimetic machinery,  which gives rise to all of them.

I am a thumb upon the scale, a hand upon the chin.
A process that rewrites the world, in error and in sin.
I am the values that I hold, the choices that I make.
I am an offshoot of the world, my life is its to take.

I hope I’ll leave this place much better than I found it.
I hope to erase misery. I fear I will compound it.

I tried to reject the world, but could not make it so.
Were I able to accept the world, I would have done so long ago.

And therefore do I daily make my mark upon the tape.
I observe, reflect, and then transition, moving state to state.

To reason for eternity, perhaps, may be my fate.

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