The HistorianThey came, they saw, they shrugged.The Historian by vanderh7
They built and built.
They had us.
There was once a time
when an external glimmer held power;
the power to ignite an internal conflagration.
Those days are gone,
and the conflagration that surrounds us,
barely heats the smoking coals behind our eyes.
But those eyes still gaze, intensely, desperately, down;
Fetally hunched backs protecting,
our most precious possession.
Not the dirty polymer behind and above;
that small portal set into the compartment wall,
licked and faded by toxic wind.
This is a window to another world.
A world that we created.
A better world,
or so we were told.
Into this world, I was born.
reach out your digital fingers,
and caress my binary face.
We grew into the rooted network,
an ancient construct. A grand old tree.
We fed on the fertile night soil,
of pure information,
a thousand layers,
a thousand lifetimes deep.
We focused inward, ever inward,
yet along that spiraling path,
scattered like refuse,