Thank you for bringing me to Earth—
where morning spills gold across forgiving hills,
and rivers hum lullabies to sleeping stones,
where silence is not absence, but agreement,
a pact between what hurts and what has healed.
I was born in the after:
after the guns were grown into gardens,
their barrels budding sunflowers in the spring,
after borders faded like old scars
no longer remembered by the skin.
The sky, once thunder-broken,
has learned to smile again—
its tears now only rain,
feeding orchards that bloom in peace.
Thank you for the breath beneath the trees,
for the hush between branches
where once there was only command.
Each leaf, a memory of noise turned to song.
Each root, a relic of a people
who chose to heal instead of harden—
to plant what was broken,
and grow what was lost.
In this world you gave me,
forgiveness grows like moss on old stones,
quiet, slow, persistent—
a green that softens everything.
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ChatGPT Poetry
PuisiA 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...
