The Internet is so much open space
Created by illusion, and portrayed
As if it could, by will alone, outface
Our knowledge of reality, and trade
Illusion for true substance. I know well
The openness I see is still contained
Within the bits and bytes that servers shell,
And yet my self-delusion is unstrained
By knowing this. I still see open wide
A plain that is, I know it, not quite there;
Yet that pretension does not try to hide,
But rather force us to no longer care.
It seems so large, and large enough to seem
More real by half than truth, though it's a dream.
No comments:
Post a Comment