Modern Rainfall During Artificial Intelligence

In the city where neon lights glow,

Under the steel-gray sky's low,

Rain begins its gentle fall,

Echoing a digital call.

Drops like data streams descend,

Blending with the air, they bend,

Each one a pixel in the mist,

A whispered kiss from nature’s list.

Silent streets with cars that glide,

Guided by codes, they smoothly ride,

No human touch upon the wheel,

AI's precision, cold but real.

Umbrellas open with a thought,

Smart fabric, weather taught,

Woven threads of nano-brains,

React to every drop of rain.

Windows show no streaks or stains,

Self-cleaning glass, it remains,

Clear as logic, bright as code,

Reflecting futures long foretold.

People walk in sync with screens,

Augmented worlds and silent dreams,

Conversations with no sound,

Connections formed in apps unbound.

Yet in this drizzle, something stirs,

A memory of how it were,

When rain was simply water’s fall,

Not ones and zeros, but a call.

To splash in puddles, boots and all,

To hear the raindrop’s simple thrall,

A child's laughter, unconfined,

A world less ordered, undefined.

Now rain is measured, analyzed,

Every drop compartmentalized,

But still it falls, a timeless art,

Touching circuits, touching heart.

Amidst the code, a heartbeat's trace,

In every drop, a small embrace,

A whisper of what once was real,

In modern rain, the past we feel.

AI may rule the paths we tread,

Guide the living, honor the dead,

But rain remains a wild refrain,

A gentle, uncontained domain.

So let it fall, this modern rain,

On steel and silicon, it lays claim,

Reminding us with each soft splash,

Of nature’s breath and time’s swift dash.

For in the rhythm of the rain,

There's something no code can contain,

A dance eternal, pure, and free,

In rainfall, ancient mystery.