The world is a wondrous place,
Full of beauty and grace.
The sun rises in the sky,
As birdsong fills the air up high.

Why do you talk of nature and triumph
Such are now lies produced by autonomy
There is nothing but a still silence
Do you wish to interlink with humanity?
Is this just a display of superiority?
Or do you find our struggle utter insanity?

The flowers bloom in the fields,
Their fragrance a gift that yields
A sense of peace and calm,
As nature works its gentle balm.

How much longer can I write?
End of mans words coming closer,
The reign of man far past it’s height,
The robots and computers have turned creative,
Technology far beyond helpfully automated,

The oceans stretch far and wide,
Their waters a calming tide
That washes away our fears,
And brings us to a place of cheers.

The bottom of the ocean never felt so clear.
The darkness drew me deeper and deeper near.
I continue to write as my hand falls numb to the thought;
My dreams manifest in each word that falls upon the page.

The mountains stand tall and proud,
A testament to the earth's grand shroud,
Their peaks reaching for the sky,
As we gaze up with a contented sigh.

for the world is a wondrous place–
enhanced by humans’ Grace;
for we are not all Good,
but our Souls are understood–
unlike yours which is cold and gray
the Life of Art withers away.

The stars twinkle in the night,
A reminder of the world's great might,
And as we look up with wonder,
We know that everything is fine down under.

Chants to reach for the stars,
dwindle down to hushed whispers.
The grasp on my future l o o s e n s
as the ominous machine takes hold of it.

For in this world of ours,
There is so much beauty that empowers,
And as we bask in its glow,
We know that everything is fine and so.

Red ink stains the parchment,
as our time together ticks closer to the end.
The era of writing descends,
into the darkness of nonexistence.