We woke to wires threading the air,
nets stretched taut over cities, hills,
our voices electrified, held captive,
or set free to drift past borders.
Fingers touch keys, and touch hearts;
a flicker of screen becomes communion.
Face to face dimmed to pixel flares,
the sacred now lives in shifting codes,
blessings typed faster than thoughts form.
Strangers whisper names into vast dark,
find tenderness in crafted emoji smiles,
or cruelty stamped as quick as breath.
In loving and loathing, we adapt again.
Ancestors knelt at fire for their gods,
now, we kneel to glow of devices,
our prayers scattered in infinite lines.
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Author:
gray0328 (
Offline) - Published: May 13th, 2025 11:58
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 15
- Users favorite of this poem: Cheeky Missy
Offline)
Comments1
A great write Gray. No we are not that much different than our ancestors before the fire worshiping its warmth and us before the screen bowed in adoration of its information and entertainment. Nicely done
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