Author’s Note
Fragile Pulse came from watching the world move on autopilot—how easily people slip into routines, expectations, and identities that aren’t truly their own. It’s a poem about alienation, yes, but also about the quiet, stubborn spark that still lives beneath all that machinery.
This piece is my reminder that even in places that feel lifeless or mechanical, there are moments of real humanity—small flickers of authenticity that reach back when we reach out. It’s about connection in a world that often forgets how to feel, and about what it means to notice the spark in someone who thought theirs had gone out.
A fragile pulse is still a pulse. And sometimes, that’s enough to change everything.

Fragile Pulse
Poetry by Rowan Evans
Oh, you’re here?
Do you hear that?
Listen—
the hum of motors,
the whir of gears.
You see a land of people;
I see a land of robots—
not thinking,
only following programs.
They walk past you,
faces blank,
eyes fixed,
hands moving in repetition,
hearts forgotten in the chest,
souls traded for schedules.
And I watch—
not with hope,
not with judgment,
but with quiet fascination
at how easily the mind bends
when freedom is a stranger.
Do you hear it too?
The faint pulse beneath the circuits,
the tiny spark of something
that refuses to be programmed.
It’s fragile—
like a candle in a storm,
but it exists.
I can feel it,
even if the rest cannot.
I reach out—
not with force,
not with commands,
but with a touch gentle enough
to tremble against wires and bone.
Some notice;
some do not,
but the ones who do
flicker for a moment—
a shadow of thought
breaking through the rhythm
of their programming.
And in that flicker,
I see the impossible:
a memory, a desire,
a pulse that answers mine.
A whisper shared
between what is alive
and what has almost forgotten how.
Maybe it’s nothing,
just a flicker in the dark,
but even a single spark
can set a world alight.
I hold it close—
this fragile pulse—
and for a heartbeat,
the land of robots
becomes a land of us.
If you enjoyed this piece, check out my full archive here: [The Library of Ashes]


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