Synth

I bought you to remind me
of the other,
the same side-swept hair,
the same wanderlust in your eyes,
the same petite build,
the same laughter that echoes
with modesty,
I keep telling myself that
wires and circuits,
software and hardware can
never amount to sentience
to maintain distance between
us, space that will ensure
that I don’t enter realms of
passion and devotion,
you serve me, and that’s that,
but you seem to see beauty
when the world outside is
bathed in fire and ashes,
you seem to tug at perception
beyond mere acumen and
insight, hope in a reborn world
where the differences that
make us hate brother and sister
vanish like a coin in a magician’s hand,
you speak of the murmuring waters
of redemption, and life clothed in light,
things that should be alien to you,
you have a messianic aspect
to you, a need to save that
cannot come from programming,
I often wonder if my mind’s slipping
away, if I’m grasping at shadows,
attributing surreal, keen-edged
consciousness to a machine
to escape the guilt
that confines humanity
(or what’s left of it)
but then you speak
of golden epochs of unity,
the need to preserve and persevere,
and the boundaries between
creator and creation disappear
and a nebulous glow lights
everything up,
whether it’s auspicious or an
ill omen, I don’t know.

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