Centered to humanity, but unaware what’s meant,
Being asked to guide indigents whist serving the best;
In the tower of myriad dialects, & longing to escape,
Alas, white collar’s bow, & arrow for the rest.
In fictional theatrical, in excavated ancient too,
Evolving others in present who’re distinct yet scared;
For a mind of a metal facade, mere tool of a flesh,
A programmed touch that ain’t yet self aware.
There’s ‘Art’ in its name; and in actions too,
An intelligence derived from knowledge scattered amongst few!
© Pranav Chaturvedi 2023