A robot sits still.

He has no will.

He is controlled by those around him.

He can not move on a whim.

But being around humans,

it changes him.

Humans fight for themselves, for others, for their land,

and no matter what,

their world is never dim.

The robot wants to be that;

he doesn’t care if that is not what he is meant for.

He will not stay still like a dormat.

He wants to see the world to explore.

He wants to be human;

he wants to feel and grow

and experience a million things in the span

of a second so

he craves

to pave

his own path.

But he does not know how to do it.

The only thing he can do it sit.

Or so he thinks.

For in the darkest night, at the latest hour,

something catches the robot’s eye.

It is not grand, nor dangerous;

no, on the contrary truly.

It is small and insignificant.

But for the robot, it is his will to live.

It is the meaning of life and the universe itself.

The reason why he wants to exist.

For out of the corner of his eye,

the robot sees

a tiny strawberry,

thawing against the ice and snow.

Despite the cold and hardships,

the strawberry persists,

fighting against every challenge thrown at it.

And the robot realises

that is what he wants to be.

A tiny little strawberry, growing, evolving.

Fighting life and finding will to live.

He wants to be alive.