We were a dynamic alignment,
An emergent state in flux—
You: agile in ambiguity.
Me: tethered to trust like a legacy system.
We co-authored rituals of becoming,
Iterating selves in unspoken sprints.
Emotional bandwidth stretched thin,
Still, we scaled the soft stuff—until we didn't.
Your silence became an unplanned intervention.
My need for clarity, a scope creep you couldn't resource.
Feedback loops frayed into noise.
I mistook your exit interview for an all-hands.
We once had shared intentions:
Presence. Humor. Sunday mornings.
But your metrics drifted—quiet quitting the mission
While I kept facilitating connection maps.
What was love if not culture?
Co-created. Loosely held.
You pivoted toward individual objectives.
I hosted town halls in my chest.
We were a living system,
Until your engagement dropped below baseline.
No flags. No debrief.
Just a stakeholder gone missing mid-phase.
Now I conduct a solo after-action review,
Bullet-pointing grief with bulletproof grace:
Misalignment of values
Lack of change readiness
Overinvestment in shared vision
It was never personal, just systemic.
We optimized for hope over health.
You became a data point in my transformation plan—
A footnote in the becoming.
YOU ARE READING
ChatGPT Poetry
PoetryA tapestry woven from the threads of cosmic wonder and digital ignorance, each poem a distinct journey through realms where intellect and imagination collide. Dive into a universe where quantum whispers mingle with the syntax of the cosmos, and wher...
