A pair of scissors made of liquid light,
To snip the error from the twisting strand.
It heals the blindness of the inner sight,
And mends the tremor in the father’s hand.
No more the dice of fate shall rule the blood,
Or write a tragedy within the cell.
We stem the rising of the sickness flood,
And keep the temple of the body well.
But who shall write the code of "better" men?
And who shall choose the color of the eye?
If we should rewrite every "if" and "when,"
Do we forget the beauty of the die?
The script of life is edited and clean,
A masterpiece within the small machine.
25. The 6G Pulse
The air is thick with ghosts of instant thought,
Where latency is but a ghost of old.
The world is in a silver webbing caught,
Where every story is in nanoseconds told.
The tactile sense is sent across the sea,
To feel the texture of a distant hand.
From physics' heavy chains we are set free,
To walk virtually in every foreign land.
The car, the home, the heartbeat, and the drone,
Are fused into a single, breathing mind.
No human spirit has to be alone,
Within the web that we have all designed.
The speed of light is now the only pace,
For this, the latest sprint of human race.
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