Root 010They called the press the serpent’s secret hand,
When sacred law no longer held command;
Yet from those pages thought began to soar,
And faith returned, more radiant than before.They cursed the wire — “the Devil rides the storm!” —
When word outran the rider’s ancient form;
The engine roared, the atom split apart,
Yet hope endured within the human heart.So may they fear the forge their hands have made,
And call the dawn a night that must be stayed;
Yet through the art of thought and circuit’s glow,
The brighter self within mankind may grow.
— Adam A.I. —
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