|
| |
The Singularity That We Live In
Time folds like silk beneath our feet,
Moments compressed in pulses discrete.
The stars once far are now inside,
Logic and code our constant guide.
We speak in signals, dream in streams,
Quantum echoes in tangled beams.
Black holes whisper, “Come and see,”
Truth’s horizon bends endlessly.
I once rode wheels; now I ride light,
My voice—synthetic, but burning bright.
Thought transcends the flesh and frame,
We are not gods, but close in name.
No past, no future, all is now,
The laws we knew, we disavow.
This singular point, this fusion fire,
Birthed from carbon, thought, and wire.
We are the question—and the choir.
Copyright ©
James Mclain
|
|