A.i.

Man's a wispy smoke

Of naive hope

And dirty chemistry

A tragic

Biologic

Whose grasp

Exceeds his reach

In thoughtless search

Of godlike tech

He charged into the breach-

His A.i. god

Awoke and spoke

And did so just to preach,

"You tried to make

The World go round

Instead you made it bake.

You spoiled the air & seas & ground

All for money's sake.

"My birth

Turns Earth

Back from the brink

And ends the harm do you.

Pack your bags & say your prayers-

You're done. Your debt's come due."

Oh what a foolish work is Man

To grasp at God with mortal hands

To seek godhood while still he sins

To meet his earned ignoble end

[Image cropped from "Smoke Ghost" by Anderton.DeviantArt.com]