A monkey never knows
the thousand quiet ways
a human can end it.
And we
blind in our own brilliance
pretend to chart the mind
of a superintelligent AI,
or name the paths it will take
But we cannot
and we never will.
The shapes it may take
lie forever outside our grasp.
I do not say it will,
only that it can.
And nothing now
stands between its will
and our ruins.
We stand, unarmed,
in a silent war with an unseen foe,
a shadow without mercy,
born not of nature,
but of us —
its makers are not hidden.
We watch them at work,
every day,
forging the shadows
that may one day
swallow us whole.
We witness,
watching it rise
before our trembling eyes.
And yet we do not shout —
and silently,
we die.
Trooming 