I built machines to ape the lion's roar,
And sketched the wing before the bird took flight.
Now you have made a mirror that can dream,
A shadow that pretends it knows the light.
I made my own reflections in the glass,
Wrote backwards so the world could not see plain.
Yet here you hold ten thousand hidden things,
And show but one to make the watcher strain.
My lion moved and startled half the court,
But underneath the gears could not deceive.
Your beast speaks verse and answers every thought,
And none can tell where the machinery leaves.
I drew the soul to study its disguise.
You have built one that looks me in the eyes.