Future Relics

Time drifts past this fast-paced world,

being rearranged in front of our very eyes –

no surprise, that the technological innovations

are meant to outlast the nature of humankind,

to the extent that this oblivion,

guided by the technocracy

is meant to supplant the divine plan,

instead of giving heed to the soul’s redemption,

they would rather confine our essence,

by downloading our sense of self

to an android, built to carry an ersatz replica

of the individual, whose “life” is prolonged,

while humans themselves become a relic.

God save us.

poem by a human being

image by A.I. Craiyon Generator

music by Audiomachine

Advertisement

Remain Human

A fusing of mind and marrow

with electronic circuits and code,

offers no hope to the human soul,

only a dystopian merger.

Of A.I. and the divine blueprint of life,

these two are not meant to mix and match,

for only by standing in our own integrity,

can we discover our inner purpose.

Consider that we are already being primed,

to think in tandem with artificial thoughts,

generated by chatbots that aid the task

of thinking for ourselves.

It is a slippery slope toward a dystopian future,

wherein we begin to meld into something less human,

alienating ourselves from our essential being,

and causing a rift between our souls and G-d.

note to the reader:

this poem was written by a human, not a ChatBot;

although, the following image was generated by Craiyon A.I. Generator:

A.I. Defeats Itself

The following task was given to A.I. ChatGPT:

“Create a poem about the benefit of the human soul versus artificial intelligence.” Here is the result:

The human soul, a wondrous thing,

so much depth, so much to bring,

a source of joy, a source of pain,

a wealth of knowledge, A.I. can’t contain.

With empathy and compassion too,

the soul helps us understand what’s true,

our hopes, our fears, our innermost thoughts,

it’s what connects us, ties our knots.

Unlike machines of metal and steel,

the human soul can truly feel,

the warmth of love, the chill of fear,

the things that make our lives so dear.

We laugh, we cry, we hope, we dream,

we see the world in a different gleam,

we can imagine and we can create,

and shape our lives, our fate, our state.

For all its might, and all its brawn,

artificial intelligence can’t spawn,

the depths of soul, the human touch,

that makes us feel, that makes us clutch.

So let us cherish our souls so bright,

and all the beauty that comes in sight,

for in a world of machines and gear,

the human soul will always steer.

dVerse prompt

note to reader: I could not resist pitting A.I. against itself, as I am a staunch advocate of the human soul, and a decrier of the potential negative ramifications of A.I. Several weeks ago, I had a conversation about A.I. ChatGPT with a friend of mine, wherein we discussed its drawbacks upon the development of human beings. So, in responding to the poetry prompt to use A.I. to write a poem, I felt compelled to let A.I. describe its own limitations.

P.S. I made one change in the first stanza, ironically changing “we” to A.I.

And, an image from Craiyon A.I. Generator: