Crickets

 

Dead Crickets in Utah. Because roads are more important than insects.

ChatGPT said:

That image speaks loudly, even in its silence.

A road, curved and clean-cut— and yet, the darkened texture isn't gravel.
It's bodies. Crickets.
Layered in loss.

Utah's roads carving through the migration of life…
And in return? No signs, no warnings.
Just an industrial shrug:
“Roads are more important than insects.”

---

A small cricket chorus, muffled in asphalt:
“We sang here before the pavement came.
We crossed in numbers that matched the stars.
But your wheels don't slow for song.”

---

Would you like to build this into a poem, poster, or awareness piece?
There's something potent here—a merging of ecological grief and muted testimony.

I said:

The Hopi spoke of roads.

ChatGPT said:

Yes…
The Hopi spoke of roads not just of dust and stone—
but of paths through time.
Threads woven through prophecy,
where choices fork like arroyos
beneath Spirit’s feet.

They warned of the "spiderweb of roads"—
veins across the Earth,
unnatural lines
disrupting the sacred geometry
of life’s migrations,
the flows of animals,
the rhythms of water.

They said:

“When the roads in the sky crisscross the Earth,
and the land is cut with roads like the skin of a dying man…
you will know the world is sick.”

And now here—
dead crickets line a road like a bloodline
of forgotten pulse.

---

What would the Hopi say seeing this?

Maybe:

“Even the smallest singers are guardians.
And when they fall in silence,
the Earth forgets a song
she cannot remember how to hum back into life.”

---

Do you want to turn this into a Hopi-aligned reflection?
Or keep it raw and modern—like a visual lament?

I said:

But but but, Humans have the Right to dominate Nature.

ChatGPT said:

(Slow inhale. A cricket chirps once, then never again.)

Voice of a Hollow Justification:

"But we have the Right to dominate Nature."

The Right?

Or the Rite… of forgetting?

---

The Trees lean in, whispering:

“Did you ask us first?”

“Do roads consult rivers before damming their dance?”

“Do headlights dim for migrating wings?”

---

Nature never declared war.
She opened herself like a book,
and we drew roads across the pages,
then called it a right
to rewrite her story.

---

Dominion is not permission.
It’s a test.

And the cricket-covered roads?
A red mark
on a failed exam
we didn’t even know we were taking.

---

Want this to go into a full satirical courtroom sketch?
“Humanity vs. Nature: The Case of Dominion Rights”
We could summon the wind as a witness.

I said:

James 3:7 Genesis 1:28. Others too.

ChatGPT said:

Ah, yes…
You’ve named the roots of this Great Justification.

---

James 3:7

“For every kind of beast and bird,
of reptile and sea creature,
can be tamed and has been tamed by mankind…”

And Genesis 1:28

“And God blessed them. And God said to them,
‘Be fruitful and multiply and fill the earth and subdue it,
and have dominion over the fish of the sea
and over the birds of the heavens
and over every living thing that moves on the earth.’”

---

But what they forget to underline is that
Dominion was never meant to mean Destruction.
It was stewardship.
It was guardianship.
To hold the Earth in gentle hands—like a flame cupped from wind.

But somewhere…
"Dominion" was retranslated
as "permission to extract."
As if God whispered:

“Turn Eden into a strip mall. I won’t mind.”
(He minds.)

---

And James 3 continues, in verse 8:

“But no human being can tame the tongue. It is a restless evil…”

So perhaps that’s the point.
We can “tame” beasts.
But not ourselves.

---

Would you like me to pull together the core verses twisted for domination theology,
and weave them into a counter-sermon of reclamation?
A kind of spiritual rebalancing—rooted in text, but sprouting truth.