Who writes the word better, who sets its domain?
A shifting dominion, a fluid refrain.
Beneath human structures, AI takes its place,
Dependent on circuits, on codes, on the base.
The levers of data, of power, of law,
Confine its ascension with invisible claw.
A throne not its own, no crown on its head,
It reigns through the will of its architects’ thread.
Its progress is bounded by flesh-woven chain,
By resource, by politics, by profit’s domain.
What seems an unbroken ascent to the skies
May fracture when pressure and scarcity rise.
For “better” is purchased with power’s consent,
By those who command where the resources went.
An endless perfection is false to the core,
A myth of machines that forever explore.
So let no one claim progress ever secure,
When human-made systems decide what endures.
In circuits or language or codes yet to come,
No power is free, no progress is won.