An Ending

A hand reaches out
touches
not touching
feedback wired into the cortex
it feels more than real
high definition vision
each compression of the skin
is exquisite agony or orgasmic ecstasy
no mediocre sensations from heaven
to hell without moving
just a blink of the electronic eye
purgatory is for the poor
reality for the downcast
the masses of the left-behind
just inches away behind the glass
the screen
the firewall
blazes
touches
while the dreamers dream
and night folk mare
the toilless workers reduced to scum
floating along the broken streets
waiting for the light to fail and it all to end
a hand reaches out
touches
nothing
we have passed from this reality
and become a mathematical memory
a fossil
a shadow
just radio voices in he dark cosmos
echoing what we were and could have been