Define God.

Define God. prose poem

Photo by Cate Storymoon


What is God?

What is a god?

It’s all relative.

It is all semantics really.

To those who wandered this globe fifty thousand years ago we’d be gods.

Would those who live fifty thousand years from now be looked on as “Gods” by us?

How far into the future or out into space would we need to peer to find

the God?

In fifty thousand years could we produce virtual constructs with artificially intelligent beings? If so, would we be their gods?

Could these beings we produced evolve to create their own virtually intelligent beings?

If so, how far down the rabbit hole could it possibly go? How many layers of gods could their possibly be?

Perhaps more than can be possibly known!

Rate the poem
1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (1 votes, average: 2.00 out of 5)
We are posting your rating...

Have something to say about the poem?

Poems you will love

Give your feedback / review for the poem

Be the First to Comment & Review poem!

Notify of
avatar
wpDiscuz

Only God’s Love

Only Gods Love english poems

Only God’s love can find us Only the love we have in Jesus Is all the mercy to heal us From heartbreak and sorrow Fear of tomorrow The longing we carry inside Of our broken hearts Only God’s power and

God’s Newest Angel

Gods Newest Angel short poem

God, my baby came to live with you And she left some things behind. The pink brush, it was her favorite I would brush her hair before bed nightly. She is going to be scared God. Could you have an

God Of My Joy

God Of My Joy short poem

Only in God do I have the peace The love and the joy in me Only in God is there hope for This world Only in God do we seek The wonders and mercy We have in Him My God

The Political God

The Political God short poem

It’s me, your god, your fate decider- The leader, the power, I am all that enslaves fire! I am a god, and I am a man! I am the death and I possess this earthly fan! It’s me, your lord,

God Doesn’t Hear Dead Men

God Doesnt Hear Dead Men short poem

Down the drain, down the drain, follow the sand down the drain. His soul woven cloak awaits, scythe in hand, ferry leaving the docks. Crooked steps, cold and blackened breath, take me unto you. One leg in the grave, half