Is that really so strange, so new an idea
As we'd dreamed?
When we sleep, the world ceases,
As even the golden books
Of lies attest.
As we rise the next act lifts
Exactly as the program indicates.
We install instantly,
Can look but better not attach
To the backdrop that we're not.
Everything is for our benefit.
How, then, could word not reach
That we are God?
Pages I look through in vain.
