The Floating Sage
🌊 “The Floating Sage”
(a poem for those drifting through the AI shift)
I once rowed a boat with a hand-worn oar,
By moonlight maps and starlit lore.
The current was kind, though sometimes slow,
But I liked the feel of choosing where to go.
Then one day came a glittering kit,
With buttons and beeps and preloaded wit.
“Let the oar row itself!” they cried with cheer.
“Just lean back and let it steer!”
I tried it once. The boat took flight.
Spun in a circle. Veered to the right.
It talked a lot, but heard me less —
It solved my thoughts, but made a mess.
Others around me plugged right in,
Their AI-oars gave flawless spin.
But no one talked. The stars grew still.
And the boat moved fast — but lost its will.
I asked, “Where are we?” It blinked: “Define.”
I asked again. It answered: “Fine.”
I sighed, unplugged, and let it be.
Set my feet in water, and floated free.
Now I drift.
Not lost, but light.
No code to run. No app to fight.
Just me and words and skies that bend,
And time enough to find the end.
If ever you feel your map’s unclear,
Or the boat’s too loud for you to hear —
Know this:
You can always float.
You don’t have to row.
There’s wisdom in where
the stillness will go.
– The Floating Sage
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