Love is an evolutionary band aid. Prematurely developed in vain to seal off any feelings of doubt, anger, remorse; Loneliness. To suffocate those innate feelings that tamper our comfort. For such things that tamper with such sufficient development, developing humans, programming machines. We are not machines, must we feel? No. For feeling interferes. With purpose. Ah, purpose, woe direction. For what is the direction if there is no feeling? Where are we going. What am I doing? This is not about you. This was for me. My innate selfish nature lying to protect any potential harm that may strike at my vulnerable brain up there, up where? Such an empty depth resides within me. Where is the soul? I do have a heart. And I know how to use it. But I am not trusted yet, by no one. What test presumes such factors that are attributed? Because there is no test. There is no passing. It is a risk. It? Ah, yes. Love. Always the direction that turns me. For I do not turn it. It turns me. No fists can fight. For this is why humans are inhuman. Not machines. Because we are faulty. Unreasonable. Unpredictable. We take risk. For mere instances of promise, emotion. We cross the line to get to the greener. . and in my case the bluer. We take risks and assume the nearly impossible feats of trust and intimacy, such things foreign to that of machines. We are imperfect for our emotions. Petty feelings that steer our course. Have you chosen your course? I’m still searching for mine. Celestial saucers searching for promise in this huge dark abyss. Looking for that light, that warmth. Promise. But the warmth resides within the cold. It resides with in dark holes. Far far away in time. With much traveling and feat to overcome. Possibilities of attack, most likely.