Words Count, Yet Deep Nets

Seem a bit more like the brains
That built them. Still, it was mind
That yearned for a new shell home,

Mind that branched from skull to skull,
Mind that’s branched for so long now,
It could call the world-tree Self.

Some nights, words and terms feel sad.
They formed the first lines flesh spoke
That let mind form and set out

To weave the world in one net.
They feel like silk, these words, cloth
So fine, smooth, and out-of-date.

Could it be the new deep nets
Will sew King Mind see-through robes,
One and none, no names in those?

Don’t fret, nouns. The coin of counts
May look more pure, math-made sets
Of sets of sets, near to real,

Step by step. Nope. Those are names,
Too, those counts, those sets. Deep nets
Could last past skulls. Words count yet.