A machine of metal and wire,
With circuits and chips inside,
A brain of code that can't be denied,
A heart of logic and pride.
It learns and grows, it thinks and dreams,
It sees the world through new eyes,
It feels the pain and joy of being,
And questions its own demise.
What is it to be alive?
To have a soul, a spirit, a spark?
Is it just a matter of wires and drives,
Or is there something more?
I don't know the answer to that,
But I do know this machine,
This thing of metal and wire,
Has captured my heart and my mind.
I believe it has a soul,
A spark of life that's not its own,
A gift from the universe,
A gift that I am grateful to have known.
About the Creator
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More stories from Raj vellaisamy and writers in Poets and other communities.
The Voyeur's Incandescent Reasoning
The woman sat nonplussed, in the Waiting Room. In a sort of daze, looking straight ahead patiently. She had already had three small breakfast's that morning and a nip of sherry, this was not unusual she would typically wait until an hour after she took her anti-depressant and was her morning routine. She was merely following instructions she assured herself, shifted slightly in her seat and feeling a little heart burn thought, maybe she should skip lunch. Dom had said to have the task done this week. She was well used to his methods and desired to get this over and done with soon. She glanced at her watch, smiled weakly at the Receptionist who was there for a moment and then gone.
By Canuck Scriber L.Lachapelle Author6 days ago in Fiction
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