Anachronism

His life was writ in lines of code that scrolled
across a monitor like ghostly text
composed by some developer controlled
by ego, certain he had hatched the next
big thing, though it was already passe;
an altered fragment of an older app
conceived when flesh and bone were still the way
before those sick of death began to tap
into a way to virtually live
forever. Imperfections scattered through
the code kept flashing in his memory banks
with urges to feel passion and forgive,
archaic thoughts this world no longer knew
and every time he did he'd thrum with thanks.