We build a house with careful beams,
Footnoted bricks, peer-reviewed dreams,
Then post a sign in earnest ink:
Enter freely. Choose what you think.
Inside, a library hums with doubt,
Shelves that argue their way out.
Methods march in disciplined rows,
Each fact vetted before it goes.
Yet—here's the joke we tell with pride—
The doors swing wide, the locks denied.
"Come in," we say, "and roam at will,
Ignore the maps. Climb every hill."
Some guests trade lenses for a blur,
Swap slow inquiry for a slur.
They pocket myths, discard the rule,
Declare the compass just a tool.
Why guard the key to choosing wrong?
Why let the off-key join the song?
Why save the right to doubt the doubt,
To reason less, to opt things out?
Because a truth enforced by fear
Is dressed as law, not held as dear.
Because a mind that's never free
Can't tell the cage from certainty.
So we protect the fragile art
Of choosing poorly, start to start—
For rigor born of open ground
Outlasts the truth that's only found
By narrowing the world to one
Approved conclusion, neatly done.
The irony? We lose some light
So minds can learn to see at night.
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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...
