In a world of buzzing, blinking screens,
Where everyone types but no one means,
We tap and scroll and share a meme,
Yet lose the thread of the living dream.
Once, words were tossed like skipping stones,
Across the pond of flesh and bone—
Now silence hums through crowded rooms,
Lit by the blue of glowing tombs.
We’ve built machines to bridge the gap,
But somewhere lost the heartfelt map.
They’re helpers, friends, or so we say—
But now they steal our time away.
We speak in pings, in gifs, in snaps,
But miss the warmth of heartfelt claps,
Of eyes that meet and truly see—
Not avatars, but you and me.
What happened to the hands we held,
The stories shared, the hearts that swelled?
Now memories are pixel-bound,
A cloud that floats—yet never found.
Remember how the fire would crack,
When laughter spilled, no filter, no track?
When we would be, not just appear—
When living wasn’t stored in here?
Electrons shouldn’t raise our kids,
Or cage our minds beneath glass lids.
They’re tools, not gods, not hearts, not friends—
They aid, but life is what we send.
So take a walk, and lose your phone,
Hear real birds sing in honest tone.
Speak with your voice, not your device,
And give your presence—once, then twice.
For if we fail to see each other,
To lift a friend, a sister, brother,
We’ll trade the world for blinking light—
And miss the stars that filled the night.
The Writings of Felina Silver 
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