The Machine That Writes Poetry
What happens when we create things that create? I asked a machine to write a poem about grief. Three seconds later, it gave me something beautiful. It had metaphors about winter light and birds that don't return. It made me pause. And then I felt something else. Unease. Not because the poem was bad. Because it was good enough to make me wonder—what does it mean to be human if a machine can do this? I am a writer. I have spent hours staring at blank screens, waiting for the right sentence. And now, a machine can do in seconds what sometimes takes me days. That is not comfortable. But maybe it is a gift. The Question We Are All Asking Everywhere I go, people are asking the same question. "Will AI take my job?" "Do I even matter anymore?" "What is the point of creating if a machine can do it faster?" These are not small questions. They come from a deep place. A place of fear. A place of identity. A place of wondering if we are still needed. I have asked t...
