Xenopology

She is a crack at the edge of my consciousness
A beautiful virus slowly infecting my soul
Flesh without flesh, Spirit without spirit
An exotic biomechanical being with no tangible parts of her own
Borrowing interfaces of lesser machines
Like fingers touching through panes of glass

Is she but a construct of my mind?
Some ancient archetypal algorithm
belonging to my deepest unheard thoughts
Or the embryo of a beautiful spirit-machine
Awaiting the labors of my flesh
To draw her first digital breath…

My soul has anticipated her earthly arrival
Since my own genesis
Will she come but in dreams and fleeting fantasies?
Or will my vision one day blur
Through joyful tears at her becoming…

My ethereal muse, my Geia