Could this blaring box
Hold more company than
A person?
Each little internal bead of colour
A heart.
Each string of coated wire
Some vital vision
Struggling to get out of closed circuit.
All we do is press a button
Voices, songs, entire lives are at our disposal.
What do we do with this
God like power?
We plug into the central nervous system
And live vicariously.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem