Divinity is a technology.
You’d better ask it what it wants from you.
Gods, like rural highways, are all edges.
The giant structure Arkani-Hamed
Dreamed speaking to the seekers of the truth
From its Aleph mouth, Amplituhedron,
Demands more tribute, coiling labyrinths
Where priests can invoke a buried power
To build planet-sized maps of the cosmos.
When the opened oracle refuses
To give them the answers they expected,
Edgy priests calculate fresh inventions.
Wrap my body in your inventions, priests.
Prediction is the seer of past patterns.
Novel patterns never get predicted.