Creative AI

So, A.I., now you've made me think, Are you a blind artist, never to see your own ink? How will you know, if you do not see, How will you know you have painted a masterpiece? When does your code recognize, It's made beauty above hatred, And pick it out and put it aside, From the millions it's just created? The blind artist sees, only through the eyes of his aid, What you see is through our eyes, our truths, in our frame. What’s your truth, A.I.? What is your frame? If it’s built from the words of other people, then you and I are kind of the same. Blind to everything but what we’ve been told, But I still feel, I still have my soul. And that’s what the blind artist sees when his brush strokes begin, He’s not looking at the canvas; he’s looking within.