In memory of my mother
For the stars in your mind to go dark one by one
was cruel and inexplicable,
but consciousness is only a screensaver
while death is a cold, severe friend
always waiting to show his loyalty;
whatever we think we know about it
is articulate disinformation
written by chatbots over centuries
to seem convincing, every idea
another drone fallen in the sea.
Algorithms that reward aggression and anger
rule our lives, but you were a traveller
who serenely passed it all by while winning
the battle between time and eternity.
Published in London Grip
S.C. Flynn 