To be called just another ambitious one.
But where they focus on riches, I’m ambitious in emotional experience.
The equivalent to millions, is to have unlocked the complete set of the human condition.
I’ve banked more than a billion experiences, reinvested into the ears of those that want to hear it.
Steering lives 180° into a direction completely unexpected.
For life is an interesting tale to bard, it lives in a linear world with a completely out-of-placed drum.
Banging on in tempo that echoes through environmental influence.
Yet when the rich man dies on a ship that never mattered, I chose to enter dimensions that were too far alien for the human mind to comprehend.
To alien, is to alienate from a world of movement and judgement.
And it is here I danced and shared and sang and let the world that told me ‘what I ought to do in it,’ fade into black.
Then the voices spoke, oh how the voices spoke;
“If you stay here, you will no longer be seen like the rest, your language will change, what little similarity you had left will now be but a distant photographic memory ready to be imprinted as you’re required to connect.”
“You will be pretty to look at, but too scary to love. You will intimidate in action, but care in outcomes. Your tongue will be foreign and stitched and too dangerous to directly express, yet your mind clear and exposed and active for collection.”
“The centre of Saturn, through many storms, you will call home. Where you need to accept the potential of no life ever reaching you again.
That’s the trade that comes with death,
And the emotional experience you will get.”
My mind drips with anticipation as my hormones choose to overdose at the thought of it, static noise at the voices which follow along the line of ‘Claudio has lost it.’
So when they ask the ambitious rich, why’s it matter? The response will be significant, yet dry to my palette.
For when they ask the ambitious emotional, the response will be cataclysmic, beyond dimensional bound.
And Saturn will swallow me once more.