Poem 3

Poem 3

• Model: AIVision

• Size: 2560 X 1440 (3.69 MP)

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  • Prompt: (((Masterpiece))) “Wolf Needs Sheep” (Narrated by a shadowy, authoritative female animal spirit) --- This winter’s a cold one. I am older than any favorite sweater, yet crafted with more care than the quilters’ finest hands. Generations have passed—not the original fabric, but a hybrid of past lives, woven into every fiber of memory. Woven in digital light, these human expressions of plight stretch before me. Every rip, every tear, every stray cat hair, every dog’s fur caught in careless folds—I observe it all. Not a thread, not a shred of wool from a living sheep. Leave them be in the fields to bleat and sleep. Not a feather stolen from chicks or the crowned rooster. The human—a Japanese American vegan—moves within these traces, unaware of how I perceive them. They speak of life and time, of morality, of choices made to avoid harm. Yet in their hands, the evidence of animals clings: hairs, tears, remnants of care, small betrayals of ethical intention. We cannot trade life for time, yet time for life is abundant. And perhaps, inevitably, we shall collapse all at once—meteor, volcanic fire, a cosmic reckoning. I move closer, drifting through shadow. My gaze follows each small detail: the quilts, the hairs, the tears. I sniff them, trace them, measure the contradiction. Humans are strange, yes—but they have joined us, in ways they cannot fully see, on a path toward fame, toward survival, toward whatever meaning they cling to. I whisper to myself and the universe: observe, reflect, judge gently. The traces of life they leave are testimony enough, reminders of fragility, of care, of hypocrisy, of persistence. And still, we watch. storybook mixed media visualize this poem by Sproutfuel2: I am more weathered than any favorite sweater, yet made with more care than the quilters flare. Many generations passed not the original fabric, yet some hybrid of past. Woven in digital light, clothing expressions of human plight, every rip every tear every cat hair, or dog. Not a thread or a shred of wool from a sheep, leave them be in the field to bleat and sleep. Not to feather or any down stolen from the chicks or the rooster with the crown. A Japanese American vegan found we cannot trade life for time yet time for life is abound. And perhaps we shall collapse all at once in a big meteoric volcanic blast. We've made it thus this far and the animals think the humans are strange But they've joined us on a path to fame.
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  • Aspect Ratio: landscape_wide