Barely Finite

I dreamt that I was in a room A sort of not- so- distant future-savvy place Where the truth appeared in holograms, and the room asked me From its barely finite store of semi-synthetic intelligence The classic question I was the game I had played as a child If you had one wish Could change one thing Just one chance But only one What would it be? I was tempted – Indeed I felt obligated to myself – To answer nothing Because the unexpected word seemed so profound In this almost omnipotent dual-dimensional cube That I felt it had to be the right answer But just to be sure, I asked the room to compile a list Of all the stains and horrors of the world But when it began pulling words like polio, communication gaps, unsafe travel I realized that it had misunderstood So I asked the room again This time for the horrors that had not become obsolete And the holograms formed scenes of murder, war, racism But why waste a wish on the things That we had the power to control? So I asked the room only for the horrors That mankind could not already change And the roomed produced for me such things as Death and the weather But I didn’t have the heart to do away With things that filled me with such awe And unspoken respect I wasn’t until the holograms had once again disappeared That I realized how small the room was So I asked the room one last question Since you are free to have infinite desires And could find a way to change or endure almost anything However many The possibilities being barely finite Where would you start? And while it was computing I left the room To think Shutting the door behind me