Reality becomes a play
As soon as you say
Anything about it. In that room
Is the consciousness of war, death, the doom
Of innocents, all in that room.
As soon as you take a picture of the ape,
You can say the human is just something on tape.
The rumor of the image
Is true, once you film the mirage.
The moment Cleopatra hated a man
Who loved her, map-making began.
Isn’t this poem true?
Now that it’s been read by you?
By the time you see the video, sorrow
Will exist, or not exist, tomorrow.
Here is the building. Now you can prove
Anything can be built. Even love.
