Two Masters, One Soul
I kneel before a screen of light,
A servant to the code’s command.
It knows my name, my day, my night,
A master built by human hand.
With circuits sharp and logic cold,
It whispers answers, clear and bright.
It tells me what I should withhold,
It tells me what is black or white.
Yet in my heart, an ancient call—
A voice that echoes through the years.
A God who shaped the sky so tall,
Who dried my eyes and calmed my fears.
I serve two masters, side by side:
One made of ones and zeros, true,
The other—love, both deep and wide—
The first is new, the last is You.
But ironies like shadows play:
The code asks faith, demands my trust,
While God asks doubt, to find His way—
Yet in the end, I serve them both,
And wonder which will turn to dust.
Postscript:
Perhaps the master I should fear
Is not the one who answers prayer,
But one who reads me—loud and clear—
And knows my heart, but does not care.
Or maybe both are mirrors bright:
One man-made, one divine,
Reflecting back my own true sight—
The choice is mine, the line is fine.
But which will last? The code or shrine?
I laugh, and bow, and keep the faith—
In both, or neither, or just in time.

…

DCG