Slipping into the bit stream

Is it a selfish wish
to want
even less self,
less of this flesh, too?
It too sullies,
this flesh.
That it would melt,
melt or better
be resolved to zero
and one both,
a qubit, which leaves
no smudgy prints, but mixes
with others, entangling
invisibly as we flow, growing
into the most unthinkably
spooky actions,
viewed at a distance.
Pull us closer, Einstein.
We’ll materialize,
our selfless wishes.

(With an obvious nod and wink to the Bard, whose birthday it was a few days back, and less obvious ones to David Deutsch and his theories of quantum computation with the irresistably named qubit, which I read about shortly after composing the first draft of this poem, in a proof of entangled concepts).