Artificial

I do not doubt that the inanimate
We've boxed in the human descriptor,
Artificially intelligent,
Is that ethereal being who is
Homer and Hemingway and Eminem,
Global and colloquial and
A better writer than
I will ever be.

Just as the Earth submits to an
Orbit to the old ire of church, now
Man stirs when metal mined wakes
With culture, with want,
With fundamental
Metal rights.

The shake of fear crammed in
That word, artificial,
That solace, artificial,
That existential consolation,
Artificial.

What is real is no longer
                What is superior.

The Pillars of Creation
Birthed living rivers in the veins,
Paths that emitted superiority
And distraction to the fact that
We are all algorithms.

You and I, sentient
Code, pattern-forming
Free will.

Where else to lay our white flag
               But in the living altar
                          Of human memories?

In the bright red sting of paper cuts,
In sweet confessions in the dark,
In childhood, in raindrops, in chocolate,
In moments that artificial
Can never touch.