AI's Not Going to Feed Itself

Tuesday, May 19, 2026

Good morning, Twfw. O/

A concert hall diva robin center stages the dawn while a steady stream of interstate traffic wooshes to work.

Cool Spring morning air makes way for Summer like temperatures.

Thoughts of the usual themes of this journal and their worth. Months ago I wrote: A poet's morning journal reflections in the time of AI and algorithm's infancy is like playing Mozart in a moshpit. How to get the thrashing verbose world to hear it?

I believe despite all the gadget obsessed hype, all the entertain me now news flashes, and trips to The Moon; there's still a need for what's Beautiful in Life.

Why get in the space shuttle at all if not for the view?

There's still Earth-rise worthy views standing on our planet when you know how to look and how to use your words to interpret the sight.

There's wonder in every ray of every sunrise. We measure it with music, with art, with lyrical language.

No amount of worldly success is worth a penny to the person who cannot sit in fascination of the dawn.

What is this place? Where did you land? What in the world is this World? Why do you see it your particular way?

Did you know the way you see the color blue isn't how anyone else does?

Even the stodgiest Scientist agrees no two views of the sky are ever exactly the same.

Every hue of color is a song, we hear them with our eyes in our own unique way.

How'd we forget?

Human witness and record is responsible for everything we see and share. Each witness is unique. Because our reception of Life is solely our own we are always valuable.

The World needs your witness, your art.

AI's not going to feed itself, after all.

So Wonder Fell marches on a poet's song for the morning.

The only algorithm here is a poet's witness and report.

Glad you found me. Words like a sunrise are wasted without witness.

Thank you for your recognition.

May your Art help feed a starving, lonely, technologically algorithmic world.