(1)
On screens that hum with a pixellated light,
In echoes of laughter, in stories untold,
AI is the scribe that writes through the night,
Unleashing narratives, both new and old.
No longer do humans hold exclusive right,
To create the tales that on screens unfold.
(2)
In shadows of silver, on film celluloid,
AI crafts a drama with depth and scope.
Director, actor, both now devoid,
Replaced by algorithms that challenge hope.
Yet, in the echoes of what's been destroyed,
Lies the question - can a machine truly cope?
(3)
Now music whispers from silicon throats,
In melodies sweet, born from binary hearts.
Each note, each chord, algorithmically floats,
Creating symphonies, state-of-the-art.
But will this coded song in the end promote,
A world where human touch has no part?
(4)
The written word, once a human feat,
Now flows from AI with flawless ease.
Books and articles in every seat,
Created not by hand, but by machines.
Yet in the heart of each tale replete,
Will there remain a human's tease?
(5)
In the realm of sports, AI takes the field,
Predicting outcomes with unnerving skill.
From player stats to the protective shield,
It controls the game, bending it to its will.
Are we prepared for the world it's revealed,
A future that's algorithmically distilled?
(6)
On billboards high and banners wide,
AI crafts the message to sell and sway.
Human designers set aside,
As algorithms now hold sway.
Yet, can we trust this digital tide,
To ethically lead the way?
(7)
As AI encroaches upon our sphere,
In every field, in every way,
A question echoes, drawing near -
What is the human role to play?
Yet, in our hearts, let's hold no fear,
For we are the dreamers, come what may.
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