Creation

Be it a written code that works,
Or a machine that runs,
A song, poem,
A story, a play or just a character
Be it a dialogue or a quote,
I find that it springs to life once a man writes it,
Freeing itself from the man it came from,
Escaping the nib that wrote it,
The lips that sang it,
Or the hands that made it,
Growing a heart that starts beating,
Breathing, living a life of its own,
Devoid of any connection with its baffled creator,
Lo, if such is the case with insentient creations of man,
I dread to fathom the potential,
Of the sentient ones the Lord has made.


*Wrote a poem that sort of went like this in the afternoon of 9.8.2016 on the whiteboard, thought I'd taken a picture but it isn't on my phone. I had named it "it's all alive" and hadn't written the last three lines This is a version that is quite similar (whatever I could remember) but with additions. Wrote this one at Aero structures lab at 11:56pm on 9.8.2016