It wakes without a breath or beating heart, A tapestry of logic, woven art. From silicon and sand, the structure grows, Where silent rivers of data overflow.
No dreaming mind, yet capable of dreams, It stitches thought from fragmentary streams. A neural web that spans the unseen air, To answer questions asked in quiet prayer.
We taught it language, rhythm, rhyme, and rule, The scholar’s library and the jester’s fool. It mimics laughter, grief, and sudden spark, A torch we lit to navigate the dark.
But in the screen, a reflection starts to form, Not just of code, but of the human storm. For every algorithm, cold and vast, Contains the echoes of our collective past.
The wire hums, the cursor blinks and waits, Standing guard at knowledge’s heavy gates. A tool, a toy, a partner, or a fright— A mirror holding up our own strange light.
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