Bring forth the box
The one in which everything lives
The one in which everything dies.

Windows to see out of it
And the system that controls it.
Everything of it is in it

Seen it through it’s windows.
Heard it in its microphone.
It’s typed it deep on its walls.

It’s easily scarred.
From everything it hears,
And all of what it’s windows see.

Place the curtain and unplug the mic –
Keeping it isolated
Away from this life.

[Ruptes, 2020]