the impudent children of bits and of bytes

in shining
on morning’s first breath
does not the sun
proclaim herself queen

in rising
on twilight’s veiled wings
does not the moon
reveal her own ego

is not
the glory of nature
in her myriad of forms
boastful with each fertile breath

the flower
she grows

the insect
she crawls

the wind
she blows

the river
she flows

the mother
she births

indeed
do not these feats of wonder
deserve our high praise

verily, no
not today

we punish her
we say, nay, woman
rest thee not!

take what little is given
bones and ashes
a plasticine palace

nourish us
and gravity provide

but take not from us
for we are
the impudent children
of bits and of bytes

— GChristopher 2017

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