Torches and Pitchforks

 

Yearning for the fire.

These light emitting diodes

are soulless,

the shadows they make,

formless.

We used to banish

the dark,

but now I think

we court it.

Tease it

with our digital

flamboyance.

Fire, stone, and steel

gave way

to synthetic toys.

 

We were once the type

that feared the night,

but we explored it, anyway.

Took pitchforks and torches

out to hunt the monsters,

and those who made them.

These days we seem to breed them,

as if we need them.

How long will it be,

before torches and pitchforks

are all we see?

Everyone pays in time.

There are no hidden crimes,

just future consequences, I believe.

 

We used to sing a song,

we used to play along,

but now we’re just so passive.

The fireside is gone

and we have moved on,

thinking progress would be impressive.

We were wrong,

we knew it all along,

but we dismissed the missive.

Instinct dull and slow,

nowhere left to go,

no one left to teach,

no one to listen.

 

I can’t believe

we would dream

of going backwards.

Losing who we are

amongst the stars,

used to be our essence.

Now, we’re lost and gone,

still scared of the dark,

and terrified

of fire.

What hope do we have

to save us from the monsters

we’ve become?

We’re all out of saviors.

 

 

HG – 2022

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