Losing Sight of Love

Love is a powerful emotion. It unites families. It drives us to purpose at work. It amalgamated passion and devotion. But as the commitments of a 24-hour day go to the computer screen to chase what we love, are we losing sight of the real emotion this word implies?

Maybe, we die again and again, reincarnated as more plastic versions of ourselves.

More nuanced, more sophisticated — but without the human touch.

That child in us, that laugh, it escapes as ideas are killed

As relationships are buried under commitments and profiles.

They lie, when they say, they are a family

I guess, even families, are no longer the same.

Are we — more needy, as we turn plastic each moment of truth,

Or are we, not elastic, having turned all stern and plastic.

The elastic also snaps after a point, backbones are not meant to be bent all the time

Is it why the sweet knives are crooked, in material and person?

I’m not sure, but I know

The screen killed a bond today.

They say, pain is the mother of poetry and prose.

I fell in love with the world, but slowly it closed behind doors.

Enclosed all life in a castle of protection, when I stepped out there was none to meet me.

A portal opened doors to a person

Another, opened doors to a purpose

Too bad, I could only experience these without touch

And I saw them, slowly become intangible first and distant and painful next.

How will I get used to myself being plastic?

People are losing life at a small, untimely age

And innovation is promising a century or more of the lively penance

What hasn't changed, in the world slowly turning from skin to plastic

The human yearning for what they do not have.

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