Seasons change so do impressions on face,
Wondered why diversity so restricted, small?
On the free lands that inhabited myriad tales,
Shouldn’t now rebuild broken ships’ chords?
A calculation; then; Skewes, Graham, Infinite,
Yet, back to irresoluble, questionable deeds;
You call it A.I.’s God, God’s A.I., no difference!
As either would want to RESURRECT lost glories.
If life inside is mere the rebooted OS in flesh,
No sin then if being put inside in metallic scent;
You be a spiritual or devout or holy or skeptic,
As no such intelligence rise sans masked blessings! 😊
© Pranav Chaturvedi 2024