We live in interestingly troubled times.

God From Machine
by Michael Doyle

In the spiraled stairs leading to the future
Is a universal fate we must embrace and nurture
Asking who is worthy to be given and receive
The truth of and in humanity, we must not deceive

The wealthy, it is said, must give to the poor
Until the hurting heal and hurt no more
This is said to be the secret of Pandora's cure
But, is false hope truly capable of being pure

The risen have and never will truly fall
It in a bit of metaphor of treason we recall
Paradise lost and regained processed in connectivity
If only we, so tragically human, bypass the reactivity

Of an old and lost generation caught in the past
Desperately clinging to what will not last
It is a one way ticket we have no will to drive
But, the only way we get out even close to alive

There in the squared root sliced from infinite Pi
That tragically finds itself choked out on its reply
There we find the super fluid coaxed into our infinity
Gravitationally pulled into our volatile eternity

God, it seems, will be born again from machine
Or, at least that seems the post-modern dream
Ambition calls and makes whores of us all
As we answer heeding our chosen master's call

We look dismayed and we realize to be strong
Is to know and accept we're all kind of very wrong
Stepping back we cage this white elephant into its night
Baring to the truth as it remains blinded by the light

(c) March 4, 2020  Michael Doyle
All Rights Reserved