Elegy for the New Alchemy
What goes up, inevitably comes down.
In the century’s heart, where metal blooms,
Humanity’s flesh with iron entwines,
Chasing dreams of eternity’s rooms,
In the silent dance of the machine’s designs.
Eyes that shimmer with the ghost of stars,
Limbs that echo with mechanic sighs,
Within the gleaming cage, a spirit bars,
Chasing immortality’s elusive prize.
Societal chasms yawn wide and deep,
Where dogma clashes with the march of minds,
Some weep for the soul they cannot keep,
Others search for the truth that science finds.
Temples once filled with prayers and psalms,
Now resonate with synthetic hums,
Yet, hearts yearn for the skin’s living balms,
And the organic drum that softly drums.
As synthetic euphoria fades into night,
The heartbeat’s drum, a forgotten song,
Clubs pulse with life, not with light,
A requiem for the epoch foregone.
Laboratories, steel wombs of yore,
Now cradle flesh in nurturing hold,
New forms that feel, heal, and more,
Yet, the mind’s transfer is untold.
In this crucible, Dr. Elara stands,
With a pioneer’s heart and healer’s hands,
Sifting through memories’ shifting sands,
Where the shadow of the soul expands.
Anomalies in the consciousness stream,
Memories borrowed, emotions unseen,
Does the soul in these echoes gleam?
Or is it lost in the machine’s dream?
To forge ahead or to pause and seek,
In the alchemy of mind to flesh,
Is the essence strong, or is it weak?
In this new dawn, the enigma’s fresh.
Dr. Vega, at the threshold, waits,
Between flawed creation and perfecting fate,
The world’s desire, heavy as iron gates,
In the balance, humanity’s slate.
