considering the advent of thinking AI
There’s personal grief that like the guillotine
ends the moment and destroys time,
a tornado that instead of up, drills down
to the underworld and one disappears.
It mutilates the soul, then gushes energy
from the final cut, removing head and heart.
There’s grief that is repeated, if lucky
just twice, but often more than that.
Not one desert to cross nor one mountain pass.
Like when my mother moved far away to spend
her final years in the company of my sister;
when mom died, it was a second time.
There’s grief of the moaning kind,
the one we feel for others. In full light,
the sight of benefits we’ve enjoyed
as we lived long lives; we suffer
because the same won’t be there
for those we love, after we are gone.
What song of solace might there be?
At what cost come peace and calm?
Every generation must look back
then forward and from perspective
as we soldier on, we quell our fears and voice,
knowing the choice will be theirs.
