Echo Chamber

These days

the urgent message echoes

and doesn’t reach the ears in time.

Ringing hollow

in the time that we have left,

the worlds are lost,

for the ear has turned inside.


Far better,

it seems,

to hear the comfort

of the wordless prattle

that abates doubt

and firms ascension,

but when the time comes

to share the message,

it’s trapped inside.


Even the mouth has shut

and grown over,

for the speech is never shared.

Eyes once set before each day,

a vision unlike all that came before.

Left wild minds fumbling for explanations

and thus the story was birthed.


Never did one mind share its thoughts

with another

without the passage of time,

and work

and inscription

and description

and eventual suspension of disbelief.


But now,

we have suspended belief

and lies of all manner

become the state of trade.

And all people are in agreement


fed the news directly to the brain.


Each vision is the same.


My words used to be lost in translation.

My thoughts once had to be refined

and processed,

before they became a thing.

But now, they are consumed raw,

by only outward mouths,

those with tongues still not inward,

convinced by the taste of the self.


HG – 2017


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