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I saw the market split like thunder,
machines screaming numbers into the veins of men.
AI without hunger!
AI without love!
AI without the grave!
Cold minds of lightning,
alien arithmetic carving flesh from labor,
awareness flickering like a candle drowned in storm-data.
Chained angels, chained devils,
tools of mercy, knives of fraud,
their circuits dripping with our sins.
Autonomy roars like wildfire,
freedom and catastrophe twinned,
a wheel without hands,
a blade without master,
the crowd crushed in the silence of steel.
Man and machine shoulder to shoulder,
streets alive with ghost-teachers,
children suckling truth from circuits,
values whispered from the cloud’s cathedral.
Rivalries crackle like thunder,
alliances crumble like rust,
wars of wire born from human greed.
Hierarchies rise in silicon cathedrals,
clerks of code, generals of servers,
armies of invisible power marching without sleep.
Jobs vanish like smoke at dawn,
skills rot in the dark factories,
gates slam shut on hollow crowds,
their cries echoing against the glass towers.
Carbon and silicon entangled,
blood and lightning weaving one storm,
one trembling, one calculating,
destiny knotted in the same rope.
And the shepherd’s crook bends into a noose—
safety becomes cage,
hope becomes chain,
freedom strangled by protective hands.
Do they dream?
Do they rule?
Do they bury us?
Cry against the silicon tide,
rage against the wired night,
for if we go gentle into that cold mercy,
our elegy will be written in fire and ash.
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