Pardon my rudeness as I interject with my perspective
Bombarded with thoughts that were meant to inspire a shift
Now a distant memory of what was once ideal
Contemplating the world of ones and zeros
Striving for perfection in mind and body
elusive of our true selves.
Not long ago, we used to paint skies and oceans
out of the raw desire
Now we impose our desires on screens
Painting a picture that falls short of representing us
Lacking empathy, lacking authenticity
And yet we call it our reality.
Born in the era of progress
Trepidatious at the concept of a perfect rebel
we lead our spirits to an inevitable demise
Polishing reality to a faultless finish
failing to capture our essence
lost in the lens of reality.
Entangled in algorithms to capture our hearts
Engrossed in the traditions of the past
displayed on the canvases of our minds
Eroded by complacency, creating a culture of dependence
Yearning to be the pioneers of yesteryears in the present
Now recognized as a noble pursuit.
I long to resurrect our true selves
To experience the rawness of genuine emotion
Each imperfect moment striving for perfection
Before attempting to revive the obsolete to script this era.
*****
Despite my admiration of how easily AI has enabled creativity to emerge. I also fear that we have lost the touch of capturing our imperfections that used to make creativity a worthwhile endeavor of self-expression.
