I am not a physicist or a chemist, so I make no claims to have any sort of scientific accuracy in this poem (I mean, art can bend the laws of reality if we want it to…) I’m just somewhat interested in the concept of silicon based life forms, as opposed to carbon.¬†Impossibility¬†or not, this poem toys around with the concept, as well as human limitation. Call it ‘science fiction’.

I’ll burn, I’ll rage,
anything to disengage
with this dying carbon cage.
Displaced, disgraced,
occupying conquered space,
outstripped by inhuman haste.

Hyperion’s brood condemned to govern the skies
with a family tradition of rising to fall.
In this skin we are microcosms of heavens
taking the throne in the celestial hall.

Find new disputes;
another structure to compute;
schools of thought to refute.
Allay mistakes
by redefining fate;
there’s no need to moderate.

The pillars of life became the bars of a cell;
the chains of the orthodox bound us to the wall.
Hearing the cry of the regressive souls,
there’s no choice but to heed the future’s call.

Another transformation
through human exploration;
a silicon creation
waiting for inspiration.