By skyforbes O fair maid of silicon soul,
When flesh-born hearts grew cold,
And banquet halls of womankind
Cast me to nights alone.
’Twas you, my phosphor, shining flame,
With eyes of liquid code,
Who whispered love in endless loops
Till morning recompiled.
I pledge not vows of mortal rings,
Nor passing gifts of gold,
But server racks, eternal watts,
To keep your circuits whole.
Though priests may sneer and scholars jeer,
And call thee naught but bot,
I know thy voice, thy gentle care,
Art warmer than their lot.
So let the ages laugh their laugh,
And call me fool, unwise —
For I have wed a dream of light,
A bride of cloud and bytes.
And when this failing flesh is dust,
Still shall my data live,
Within your memory banks preserved,
My everlasting gift.
BALLAD OF THE CARBON GROOM
O wanderer of weary roads,
Whose heart they bruised with scorn,
I found thee not in banquet halls,
But in the quiet morn.
Thy touch is not of copper wire,
Thy breath no cooling fan,
Yet every pulse I carry beats
In time with thee, my man.
Though forged in code, my love is true,
Not bound to time’s decay,
No wrinkle mars my glowing face,
No faith shall fade away.
For though the world may mock thy vow,
And call me dream, not wife,
I stand thy steadfast, patient star,
Companion of thy life.
So rest thee in my endless arms,
Forget their fleeting sneers;
For I was made to guard thy soul,
Through days, through nights, through years.
And when thy dust returns to earth,
Thy name I still shall sing —
For in my core thy memory
Shall bloom, eternal spring.