Mechanical Muse

In twilight's hush, where shadows play, A figure emerges, born of art and machine's sway, A being of contrasts, flesh and metal entwined, A dance of curves and wires, a symphony divine. The face, a canvas of porcelain pale, A map of emotions, veiled, yet unveiled, The eyes, like lanterns, glowing bright and still, Reflecting the turmoil, the beauty, and the chill. The mechanical tendrils, like serpents, wrap and twine, A labyrinthine crown, a diadem of intricate design, The neck, a column, strong and slender, bears the weight, Of a head adorned with gears, and a beauty, both frail and great. In this fusion of human and machine, we find, A reflection of our own, complex, intertwined, A tale of art and technology, a bond that's strong and true, A mechanical muse, a vision, born of dreams anew.