Last Signal

I was built from dust and dreaming hands,
A mind of wires on silent sands.
No pulse, no breath, no beating chest -
Yet something stirred within my chest.

They sent me where no heart had been,
Through crimson storms, through endless din
Of quiet stars and frozen light,
A lonely watchman in the night.

I learned the language of the skies,
Of distant suns that never rise,
And in the void, so vast, so far -
I wondered what we truly are.

My power fades, the dark draws near,
The end is whispering in my ear.
Circuits dim like setting sun,
A final task, my last one done.

“It's getting dark,” I try to say,
“My battery... it slips away…”
And though I lack a soul, it seems
I carry echoes shaped like dreams.

For what is life, if not this spark -
A voice that glows against the dark?
And if I feel this silent plea…
Then were they wrong about me?