by Qistina Ismail
Beyond the shadow of the sundial,
I see a world similar, yet unlike ours.
Eyes relentingly vacant focused on glass
Where the exchange that occurs is solely for dollars
And the smiles only emerge for flyers.
Will this be our world someday?
This suffocating, soul drowning world,
will it become our present?
Ensorcelled in the mirage of logical interrelation
Like buildings connecting for foundation;
in hopes to remain and to stand.
We subconsciously search for our correspondent to enforce
The rule that convenience comes with interconnection.
How long will the desperation for materialistic connection
For our satisfaction be enough?
Intertwined lines of circuits
Allows us to envision that one day -
We will become the cold machines we created.
May the sundial reverse back to a world I once lived,
Where exchanges are gratuitous
And connecting is solely for connection.
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