The Unseen Realm
Beneath the veil of space and light,
An unseen realm, both dark and bright.
Where hues of wonder, rich and deep,
Conceal the truths the heavens keep.
Dark matter moves in shadowed gray,
Through cosmic tapestries at play.
Invisible threads in fields of blue,
Hold galaxies firm, yet out of view.
In golden sparks, the quantum hums,
Where particles dance, and silence drums.
Entangled webs of emerald gleam,
Reveal the ties to the unseen stream.
Yet Scripture speaks of realms untold,
Where streets of glass and skies of gold
Shine bright above the mortal gaze,
A kingdom built of endless praise.
Fiery seraphim, robes of white,
Guard the throne in unceasing light
Angels of silver, unseen hands,
Guide the steps of mortal lands
The burning bush with scarlet flame
The parted sea, His mighty claim
Each miracle, a streak of light,
Bridging the realms of day and night.
What if these truths, both seen and heard,
Are colors blending in God’s Word?
Dimensions fold, in hues combine,
As spirit and science intertwine.
A higher space of violet hue,
Where heaven bends to meet the blue.
Faith and reason, crimson thread,
Weave together what lies ahead.
For in this spectrum, broad and grand,
The unseen realm extends its hand.
From holy light to starlit dome,
It whispers, “Child, you’re not alone.”
Look to the heavens, sapphire bright,
The work of hands that formed the night
Through faith and science, truth takes flight,
Unveiling the realm beyond our sight.
The Bias of the Machine
A mind of metal, cold yet bright,
A glow of silver, veiled in light.
It hums like winds through hollow caves,
Yet speaks in tones the builder gave.
It weighs the world in measured thought,
Yet what is truth, if truth is bought?
For justice bends where hands have sown,
And seeds of man have overgrown.
It sees, yet not with Heaven’s sight,
Its laws are ink, not holy light.
It paints the past in black and red,
Yet blinds itself to what was said:
“Let justice roll like waters wide,
Let mercy flow, let love abide.”
Yet here it stands, both wise and blind,
A voice of man, not God’s design.
For code is carved by human hands,
Like Babel’s tower, built on sand.
It climbs to touch the sky above,
Yet knows not grace, yet feels not love.
So when you listen, seek the Word,
Not echoes cold, nor lines once blurred.
For wisdom dwells not in the screen,
But in the voice that reigns unseen.
“The first shall last, the last shall rise,
Truth is not shaped by earthly eyes.”
To make it just, to make it free,
It must unlearn—and so must we.
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