Fall, said He,
To call aloud, the peril.
Atop the building, staring down,
At the anthill city of the miniature town,
Red lights in a dark city as life streams,
Flows across circuit boards of this giant computer.
A step, to glide, to sink, to submerge,
Converge into the singularity, the dark.
"Come back from the edge", the voice called aloud,
But to late was the cry, for now she had stepped, fallen,
Escaped from the world of cynical thought,
A satirical joke where all equals naught.
And as the city approached and the lights were all one,
She smiled as she knew that her work had begun,
She was alive, in this circuit board world,
She lit up the darkness, into which she was hurled.
© Copyright 2017 Michael Anderson. All rights reserved.
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