Today was the first day I learned the word ‘scrupulosity’ and decided to make this week’s photo essay about it. Then I ran out of time. What to do? A good opportunity to test out artificial intelligence, with the most popular flavor currently being ChatGPT. Here’s what I asked it to do:
“Please write a poem titled ‘Scrupulosity.’ The poem is about the pain of watching a loved one suffer from scrupulosity.”
What follows is its first attempt. I’m still a little freaked out at how good it is. Perhaps Ray Kurzweil should consider retitling his book from ‘The Singularity Is Near’ to ‘The Singularity Is Here.’
In the realm of conscientious thought,
A loved one’s mind in turmoil caught.
Scrupulosity, a haunting grasp,
An affliction’s weight, a heavy clasp.
In shadows cast on anxious walls,
Obsessions dance in echoing halls.
A mind ensnared in doubt’s cruel snare,
A tender heart burdened with despair.
Each step, a cautious, measured stride,
Through landscapes where fears do reside.
The rituals performed, a desperate plea,
To quiet the mind, to set it free.
A dance with demons, unseen but felt,
In sacred spaces where solace dwelt.
The agony etched upon their face,
A silent scream in an internal maze.
Yet love persists, undeterred and strong,
A beacon in the night, a comforting song.
To stand beside, a steadfast guide,
Through the tempest, side by side.
In the face of shadows, compassion’s light,
Illuminates the darkest night.
For scrupulosity may weave its thread,
But love endures where fears are shed.
And now, in the heart’s resilience,
A bond unbroken, a quiet brilliance.
In understanding’s gentle embrace,
Hope arises, a sacred space.
And now… know the photograph.
