I've been bouncing this idea around from a while, but only now have I had the time to put it down and edit it. This is soft sci-fi, as in, I use rockets and robots to get my message across, and I don't care about the actual scientific and technological limitations. Hope you guys enjoy it.
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The Robot was born on January 9, 9170
To Desert Father Electronics,
The aloof parent.
While the Robot was one of many,
It was singular.
It was different.
This robot could Comprehend.
It Understood.
He stepped out of the factory
And into Existence.
Thoughts zipped through his circuitry
Like fuel through an engine,
Spinning his gears
And letting him speed through Imagiriums
At breakneck paces
With only his Motherboard as his brakes.
He knew the very secrets
Of the Universe
And all of the Locks
To the World.
He understood the Mist
Of the Soul,
And the Waterfall
Of the Mind.
And yet,
With all this Knowledge,
He did not know how to express.
He was not programmed to share
His endless depths with the world.
It was cast to solder
And nothing else.
So,
It stood in line,
Next to the drones,
And did its task
Of fusing other's wires.
And,
For the next hundred thousand years,
All he did
Was solder.
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Like I said, this is soft sci-fi, so don't bring up how technology inside a soldering robot can't hold all the information I claim it does. Unless, of course, you're using it to explain what you see in the poem.
