Virtual Prisoners

Trapped in this novel, digitalized world, We are just like goldfish going around And around the absurd, stifling bowl. O intermittently we may glimpse The fabled Holy Grail beyond the glass. It entices us... gets under our skin. But it's always somehow just out of reach. And so we're left to gently lick our wounds. Like sullen beggars barred from the banquet. We continue to commune with our machines. We are compelled to float in spectral space Along with the overflow of strange debris. Intelligent evil dust is everywhere. It's scattered liberally like confetti. There's the illusion of communication. Yet profound primal communion is rare There's a curious sense of greater freedom. Yet cold eyed surveillance corrupts all systems. There's more access to light than ever before. So why do I detect cravings for darkness?