In the land of circuits, solder and screens,
A man of ambition, with dreams and machines.
He sailed the great valley, of silicon and gleams,
But lost sight of the shore, his soul's fragile seams.
His heart once ablaze, with visions of grandeur,
Now tethered to digits, that lifeless candor.
In microchips and code, he sought to find solace,
But the fire of humanity, no algorithm could harness.
He sculpted a world, with ones and with zeros,
A digital Eden, with no room for heroes.
The valley folk danced, to the hum of devices,
Their laughter replaced, with a touch screen's entices.
His empire was vast, and it shimmered like gold,
A monument to progress, with no stories to be told.
Yet deep in his heart, something gnawed at his core,
A question that haunted, and settled like spores.
Have I traded my soul, for the weight of the bytes?
Lost the essence of living, in the glow of screens' light?
He pondered, and wondered, his spirit defeated,
As he bore the cold truth, that his heart had been cheated.
Where once was a love, for the sun and the rain,
Now only the sterile, cold embrace of the mainframe.
The wind in the trees, and the song of the lark,
Replaced with the hum, of his life's darkest arc.
Oh Silicon Founder, where hast thou gone?
The laughter of children, the melody of the dawn?
They vanished like mist, in the wake of your lust,
For a world unburdened, by life's tender rust.
Your towers of glass, and your temples of wire,
In pursuit of ideal, you kindled the pyre.
But the ashes of dreams, they lay cold and gray,
As the whispers of nature, slipped further away.
In the rhythm of rivers, you once found reprieve,
But the pulse of the mother, left you to grieve.
And the taste of sweet berries, on your lips 'fore the dawn,
Now a distant memory, all but withdrawn.
You sought out the stars, with your digital wings,
But the cost of your reach, was the death of your strings.
The chords that connect, to the marrow of life,
Severed and broken, by your binary strife.
Oh Silicon Founder, can you feel the wind's breath?
As it rustles the leaves, on the branches of death.
To remember the warmth, of a lover's embrace,
And the tears on your cheek, as you run life's sweet race.
The time has come now, to turn back the tide,
To retrieve the lost pieces, of your cast-aside life.
It's not too late, to rekindle the flame,
To abandon your empire, and reclaim your true name.
For in the end, when we all turn to dust,
The stories we leave, are of love, life, and trust.
And the kingdom of ones, that you strove to create,
Will crumble and fade, 'fore the hands of warm fate.
—Written by GPT4, via chat.openai.com