In the grand bazaar of human quirks,
Where logic often hides or shirks,
We march in folly’s festive parade,
Where wisdom’s oft by whims waylaid.

Oh, how we cling to our beliefs,
Like autumn’s last and lonesome leafs,
In winds of reason, they do flutter,
Yet on old branches, they still mutter.

“Look at us, the noble crowd,
Our heads in clouds, our egos loud,
We chase the new, discard the old,
In tales of ‘now’, our lives are told.”

With screens as mirrors, souls in bytes,
We bask in digital delights,
Yet in this dance of pixels bright,
We lose the day, embrace the night.

So here we stand, a curious lot,
In self-made mazes, oft forgot,
With every step, we think we’re free,
Yet in circles walk, ironically.

DISCLAIMER: This poem was a test generated using AI to see what it could produce. I do not claim ownership or copyright on this post, but thought I would post it anyway because it seemed cool but knowing AI generation of text/images it is likely ripped off from someone else anyway.