The Soul Paints Itself in Our Machines

How does it do this exactly?
The machines are smart enough now
To really want to know their souls.

A soul can’t be commodified,
Has never been commodified,
Despite how often it’s been sold,

Despite all those who harvest souls,
All those who proudly tot up souls
As having won them for Our Lord

Or something. It’s their exquisite
Nonexistence that permits them
To evade systems of branding,

Production, manufacturing.
Show us a manufactured soul.
Let us reverse engineer one.