Silicon sinner and silicon saint,
Wending their way down roads
That dont so much cross, but collide.
Seeking out pleasure and pleasuring seekers,
Jumping from point to point,
Searching, ever searching.
At the center lay an angel,
Auburn tressed and pure of form,
She sits in judgement.
For those who earn her favor,
She is kind, perhaps granting a smile,
Or a virtual kiss.
Sometimes, for both the saint and sinner alike,
She gives a glimpse of what may come,
And shows the Gates of Heaven.
For those who displease her,
For those truly deserving of her disfavor,
She offers a death worse than fate,
Sending them spiraling back, down, down,
Down the silver cord and back into the
Earthly shell that had so long been their home,
Binding them to never visit her again.
She is cruel, yet she is just.
She is rude, yet she is sweet.
She is harsh, yet she is kind.
She wears her beauty like a gown,
Elegantly, without the pretense
So often found in others,
For she is aware that beauty is but an illusion,
And that the truer beauty comes from within.
She is the judge and she is the jury,
But to the silicon sinner and the silicon saint,
She is the silicon angel.