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Commentary
This poem may not age well. Ten years from now, I may look back and laugh at the troglodyte I was in 2025. That has happened before. I recall complaining to my brother-in-law Don back in the late 1990s or early 2000s that clients were pressuring me to accept 50 MB files OVER THE INTERNET! Why couldn’t they just drive over with their files on portable media? Don was in a business that benefited from–and enabled–growth of the Internet. He wisely–and correctly–advised me to crawl out from under my rock.
So now, we are witnessing the rapid emergence of Artificial Intelligence. This poem is an expression of my struggle with how AI threatens a creative like myself. When AI can write three versions of a poem in the time it takes me to set down the first line of my own poem, I have to question the relevance of my work.
The poem is a protest. AI’s power comes at great expense. The data centers where AI performs its magic require vast resources–especially in terms of electricity and water for cooling. This is an expense born by all, but possibly rewarding just a few.
Artificial Intelligence pumps out poems with no regard for the costs. But we human poets work within limitations guided by decency and compassion. We have a conscience. Here’s some good news: in the exercise of that conscience, we can bring glory to the God who made us as we are. Our very limitations have value.
(CONFESSION: the background image was produced by AI based on my prompts)