If one could comprehend the mortal brain
and build an artificial container,
would we recoil, cry out in vain as wires
and lights regurgitate training corpa?
Or will we just sustain the fantasy
that circuits can drain our collected thought?
Who will explain that DNA is not
a raw chain of random nucleotides?
Refrain, I pray, from making silicon
strain itself into becoming human.
This poem was my attempt to construct Holly Jahangiri's new invention: Scala Decima Inversa.