"But how can the machine know what the soul is, and how can it begin to remember?
Out of the mind once more, my soul;
"As the machine cannot dance, as the machine cannot hear the voice or see the word, how can it begin to suppose that there is a pleasure in the mind yet more dear? And that all other pleasure is just a great sore, and not to be demanded?"
As you were talking to yourself,
All will narrow
To a word within, at last, a word.
A word within a word, weeping
For a word, and sounded then
Like rats in the eyes of desire.
A word ... a word that will last
Longer, and cast about as I can.
The machine let out a whine,
"Keep it to yourself'. . .
Oh to be a machine ... to say
A word, and not to mean
By it. Then, to mean all ...
As a boy may have
A change of mind;
And the earth contains you.
And god contains the earth.
A machine contains that
Maybe there is no word for it
A machine, therefore.
May I say another word about it:
The will to change,
Into a god!
To change one word into you-know-what.
To change the soul into a machine
Of yourself, and rats into rats
Of the mind. The will to remember:
Out of desire, a word is sounded,
For it is the will of god,
All-knowing, all-seeing, and so on.
Remember who was good and kind to you
When god would not let you have
So much as a damn.