The robot of practical love.

IT unfolds on all four sides like flaps on a cardboard cube, and from the center a sprout shoots out made of glinting silver and metallic gold craning high up into the clouds,

its base is a platform that grows broad and spreads, its symmetry explodes in origamic conclave legs, the splinter at  center sends out a satellite shaped umbrella and at its ends instead of shiny tips are drops of love that rain on beds,

the device unfolds itself across the grassy plain, mechanical arching hind ligaments threaded in with technology so sacred, the giant mechanized machine engages the horizon planting life on every corner bringing forth a kind of intricate jungle teeming with the vibrations of new hope and new living,

birthed by the creature made from modernized human construction, the robot of practical love, a centrifuge of contained heat and passion, the diamond burned by the laser mortar conflation, pressurized and fully compressed, burning bright and blazing storms beyond the meters measure, the churning metal bolts and knobs and gauges and cogs running tempers of undying romance, dancing a slow-dance,

the robot of practical love, the cohort in arrows shot from above, sending signals into the ether, from beaker into catheter till the dying end of days.

 

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