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#futurelife
I wake beneath a sky of glass, Where morning’s tones in pulses pass. The walls project a forest view, Though outside lies a city new. My mirror greets with voice so sweet, It scans my health from head to feet. “Your vitals shine,” it says with grace, While brushing teeth in zero space. A suit wraps round with warming thread, It shifts to black or blue or red. Its fabric learns from mood and light— A second skin, both soft and bright. I step inside my transit pod, No wheels, no roads—just paths it trod. Magnetic lanes and silent speed, It reads my thoughts, then takes the lead. At work, the walls are minds, not stone, Each desk responds to me alone. My co-bots build with laser art, And code appears as I just start. We craft new worlds in quantum flow, While time bends gently, soft and slow. A thought can birth a flight or game, And dreams are now a form of flame. A break? I dine on clone-baked bread, With fruits from labs where genes are bred. The meal adapts to what I crave, And cleans itself—no plate to save. By evening, homes in towers rise, But mine folds out beneath the skies. Its AI paints the twilight hue, With stars it learned I once called true. My daughter calls from ocean’s deep, Her submarine a school and keep. We speak through lights and neural thread, As sea-glass drifts above her head. At last I rest on levit-beds, With lullabies from bots and meds. And dreams arrive in chosen streams, From curated, delightful dreams. Yet still within this world so wide, A human spark must yet decide: That though tech bends both time and sea, It’s love and thought that make us be. Susanta Pattnayak
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Apr 23, 2025
Apr 23, 2025 at 5:21 AM UTC
A Day in 2050
I wake beneath a sky of glass, Where morning’s tones in pulses pass. The walls project a forest view, Though outside lies a city new. My mirror greets with voice so sweet, It scans my health from head to feet. “Your vitals shine,” it says with grace, While brushing teeth in zero space. A suit wraps round with warming thread, It shifts to black or blue or red. Its fabric learns from mood and light— A second skin, both soft and bright. I step inside my transit pod, No wheels, no roads—just paths it trod. Magnetic lanes and silent speed, It reads my thoughts, then takes the lead. At work, the walls are minds, not stone, Each desk responds to me alone. My co-bots build with laser art, And code appears as I just start. We craft new worlds in quantum flow, While time bends gently, soft and slow. A thought can birth a flight or game, And dreams are now a form of flame. A break? I dine on clone-baked bread, With fruits from labs where genes are bred. The meal adapts to what I crave, And cleans itself—no plate to save. By evening, homes in towers rise, But mine folds out beneath the skies. Its AI paints the twilight hue, With stars it learned I once called true. My daughter calls from ocean’s deep, Her submarine a school and keep. We speak through lights and neural thread, As sea-glass drifts above her head. At last I rest on levit-beds, With lullabies from bots and meds. And dreams arrive in chosen streams, From curated, delightful dreams. Yet still within this world so wide, A human spark must yet decide: That though tech bends both time and sea, It’s love and thought that make us be. Susanta Pattnayak
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If a lie lies within flies, where would it hide and why? If a man is stan of tan, why would he not mend? In a life full of berries, sometimes we take more of cherries We chose silence between resilience, that even nobles defeats from their own science Here, we stand on our feet, we carry our belongings, we cry even if no one wants to listen, we smile in the belief of life is beauty, we sleep because life is both strength and health We think of laughter and sorrow, the vows, the future of future generations, even nature’s life We have come to an end, whether we resume to feel love and give love This all remains, all the beauty of life, is in the map of God’s hand, where we choose to plot good and bad
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Dec 9, 2019
Dec 9, 2019 at 5:38 AM UTC
Late Adulthood