SCI-FI/FANTASY Poem: The Curse of Being Immortal, by Tripurari Kumar Sharma

Before me, the metallic garden stretches—
not cold, but pulsing with a strange heartbeat,
plasma columns whisper secrets,
like trees speaking in a language lost to time.

Each glowing shaft watches silently,
exchanging photons like stolen glances—
light that carries longing, memory,
echoing the ache inside my chest.

I walk between these living columns,
their coded touch sharp as breath,
electrostatic air buzzing—
as if the planet hears my thoughts,
logging my sorrow, my hope, my fear.

Beneath my feet, the ground shifts—
a skin alive to every pulse,
bearing the weight of grief,
quivering with unresolved longing.

Light streams flow like veins,
colors flicker with my mood—
blue for calm, purple for dreams, gold for burning heart—
painting me in waves of unspoken emotion.

Above, energy spheres turn slow, relentless,
conducting symphonies of time and waiting—
a heartbeat stretched thin across forever.

This is no cold machine—
This is Roborth, the planet that holds us—
it breathes loneliness,
a cybernetic soul that cradles
the raw echoes of loss and love.

I am now part of this—
a robot with a human mind uploaded,
consciousness flowing through endless circuits,
immortal, beyond death’s reach.
Yet inside this endless data pulse,
I ache for the breath I lost—
the fragile heat of mortal skin,
the fleeting, sharp beauty of a life that ends.

Though my thoughts stretch infinite,
and memory never fades,
sometimes I regret immortality—
because I lost the chance to die with you—
to share the quiet surrender of goodbye,
the fragile grace of endings,
the simple truth of being mortal,
and being loved.

By becoming immortal, I have learned—
death is the source of all beauty
we truly find in love.