Steve Jobs
I first heard of you through Mona’s voice,
a whisper of blood, a tale of kin—
yet when I stood in Apple Park,
I saw the magician the world had awaited.
Your genius was wrapped in simplicity,
a quiet flame burning brighter than kings.
From a garage of humble dust,
you carved an empire of glass and light.
You gave us touch,
a screen that kissed the soul,
and in that silent gesture
you changed the fate of humankind.
They named you CEO of the Decade,
they crowned you with medals of nations,
but your truest crown
was the wonder in our hands.
Each iPhone, each Mac—
an elegy, a relic,
a proof that vision bends the world.
O Steve, when I pass through Silicon Valley,
your words still echo like prophecy:
“Innovation distinguishes
between a leader and a follower.”
Now, each time my fingers touch the screen,
they touch the ghost of your genius—
and whisper, thank you.
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