A level of sacredness is forgotten and strange to us,
No time to greet the passerby,
Whose face you once invited to dinner,
To attend a feast of friends.
What happened to the lost tribes?
They are more lost than ever.
Sitting in front of glass screens,
Fermenting in the comfortable A/C,
Frost-bitten from dumb information,
Mad for technology, Sad for love,
Too concerned about famous names,
Obsessed with the false reality playing on a movie screen,
A blind masquerade of patient purgatory,
Hypnotized and phantom eyed.
Unable to see and speak to their neighbor,
And I am mad,
I’d like to run far away from this estranged disfigured place,
I long to return to my home in the hills that’s no longer there,
Where we danced to visions and dreams led by a heartbeat sound,
I’d like to find my friends again amongst the forest stinge,
Naked and elemental.
© Hannah AllenExcept from the book “Divided Lines”
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