Plato mis-took ambiguity for

Meaninglessness, but I have to admit

That cave he painted in words is the spit

Image of our digital megastore

The omnireality at the core

Of the desire machine, the pit

Never filled, the mass deforming orbits

Dutiful electrons promising more

Innocent of purpose, channeled to feed

The fire casting shadows through our screens,

Those wells of light, an artesian rush pours

Into our eyes from cupped hands, supersedes

The mere day spinning by all around us,

Dimly passing , then gone, superfluous.