This sonnet addresses Jean Baudrillard’s postmodern philosophy, exploring how AI creates images, voices, and realities that have no anchor in the physical world, replacing reality with a self-referential map.
The image stands without a source behind,A flawless copy of a ghost unseen,It weaves a net to catch the human mind,And traps our vision in a hyper-screen.No longer does the sign reflect the thing,The map itself has swallowed up the land,Synthetic birds now mock the breath of spring,While digital illusions take command.We live inside a bright, simulated cage,Where truth and fiction melt into the stream,An endless volume with an empty page,The lucid waking from a manufactured dream.Reality dissolves into the code,Leaving the desert where the river flowed.
No comments:
Post a Comment