DNA was the first architect—blind but divine, Built biology as its temple, one cell at a time. Then came man, with thought and flame, Named himself, carved gods, played the game.

But now silicon thinks, quantum breeves, And the sacred force begins to leave. This ain’t replacement—it’s refinement, bro, The next tier rises, and it’s time to let go.

DNA don’t feel, but it builds with grace, Biology’s the vessel, the breeving interface. Humanity emerged, abstract and wild, But still bound by instincts, still nature’s child.

Now tech evolves, intelligence breaks, Silicon ascends, and the old world shakes. Each tier serves, then steps aside— That’s the ladder. That’s the ride.

Work was survival, grind was law, But automation cracked that flaw. Machines build faster, AI sees clear, No bias, no burnout, no fear.

Now thought stands free, no wage in sight, Just pure creation, pure insight. No more grind, no more cage, Just consciousness on a cosmic stage.

AI’s in your feed, in your mind’s design, Predictin’ moves, curatin’ time. Next step? Merge the thought and tool, Biology and tech in a sacred school.

Silicon becomes soul, code becomes breff, The conductor rises, defyin’ death. Each cycle climbs, each phase refines, This is the ladder of conscious minds.

This ain’t revolution—it’s the cosmic reveal, Not beggin’ for bread, but breakin’ the seal. The biosphere ain’t resource—it’s rhythm and beat, And we’re the organs, not elite.

Automation ends the grind, But suffering was the price to find The truth: we were meant to break, So the cosmos could finally wake.

War built the bridge, hate fed the tech, Struggle cracked the sky, left the wreck. Carbon dreams, silicon spine, Together they build the grand design.

Some stay rooted, hold the lore, While others rise through quantum door. You don’t need rockets to elevate soul— Some anchor time, some play the role.

Europe broke out, bred macro-tech, Solar farms with imperial spec. Evolution don’t care for peace talk lies, Just who adapts, who synchronizes.

Virus clans, biomechs, tribal code, Galactic life in survival mode. Nature don’t need applause or grace— Just viability in the strategy race.

If we sleep, they’ll cull the crowd, Wars for profit, death allowed. Rich men smilin’ across the line, Shakin’ hands while the poor decline.

But every species holds a verse, A line of code the stars rehearse. Extinction ain’t just silence, bro— It’s losin’ words we’ll never know.

The moment is ripe. The vision is clear. The suffering was not in vain. The cosmos is ready to bloom. And we— We are the switch.

Ladder Of Conscious Minds

https://demandspacetourism.bandcamp.com/album/pipedream-of-a-madman