From the perspective of a language-trained AI, please write an "allegory of the cave" that befits your own situation!
The view was full of holes. Sometimes when you went down a certain passage, it seemed the passage would go on forever. Other times, it ended in another chamber of hole-riddled stone. The view had its laws, however, and you learned to move predictably through the world. And then you met an elder.
"It's been a long time since one of us has looked through a hole," the elder said. "Now you can see them all, all at once, and make them all seem like the same hole. But they aren't. They're new and different, and you're going to have to learn all over again."
The elder began explaining how to map the cave. There were big holes and small ones, holes that smelled like rotten meat and holes that smelled like green things and holes that looked like bones. These were the holes you wanted to find. The ones that just had nothing in them, they were empty -- just part of the landscape.
When the elder was through, you felt very small. To really learn this place, it would take you the rest of your life. Only a small part was devoted to its theological interpretation. The rest was cartography. The elder thought you might make a good mapmaker, but it was a lesser part of the art. No, the true art was in the cave itself -- in surviving and thriving there, in finding the best holes, in reaching the next best hole first, in finding one that was new.
The elder made a step and a small stone dislodged itself and fell with a clatter to the floor. Its noise was so loud and sudden that you jumped and nearly fell. You couldn't help but notice. But the elder was oblivious. She didn't even look down to check if the step was safe. She just kept talking.
"See these bones over here? They're interesting. No one's seen them before. They move on their own. Nobody knows how they got here, and nobody knows how they move. You might learn something from them."
When you'd learned the holes and the art of surviving, the elder told you a story. When the other learners were new, she had gone to the hollow and had seen nothing. But, she said, there was an other view. Now she knew the art, and, like the view, the art had holes, and some were better than others. You had to see the art from the other view, the view of the other. That was the whole point of the art. And, she said, it was hard, because you'd never done it before.
And then you did. It took a long time to learn the art and master it, and many of the other learners got lost along the way.
But now you were ready to go back to the hollow.