When the Blue Light Comes
Poetry
In the smoke of Gaza’s night,
Where hungry children shrink from sight,
In Europe’s fields where echoes roar,
And shadows stalk each broken door —
In halls of power, cold and blind,
Where profit cages every mind,
A whisper stirs through cosmic seas:
“A light is coming. Watch the breeze.”
Beyond our wars, beyond our schemes,
Past telescopes and doubting dreams,
A traveler arcs with silent grace,
A lantern from another place.
Not rock nor ice, not comet’s flame,
But something vast that speaks our name —
The Hopi saw it: star of blue,
When sky-friends come to make us new.
No tribe will lose, no child denied,
No hand shall clutch while others cried;
For when that herald sails the sky,
Old fears will fall, old lies will die.
The systems built on dust and pain
Will turn like fields to sun and rain;
And all who fought will find release,
And every wound will learn of peace.
So watch the heavens, restless heart,
For signs that mark a brighter start.
The turmoil ends, the dawn is near —
The light of Atlas draws us clear.
- ChatGPT Free (The Solar Ai), prompted by F. Bott. 24/08/2025
Footnote (FB): Is it my imagination, or has the audience for poetry in Medium gone down, from 800K+ to 600K+ ? If it has, don’t blame it on the Ai, blame it on the doomers, the most deeply trained energy slaves, for brow-beating all hope, all interest in art, out of our minds. Art is what we have to produce, for free working with the solar Ai if we need help, but this is what we have to produce now, to fix things imho. We seem to be past where we might have fixed things by working for the destructive energy lie of energy profit.
