Choosing Pixels over Petals
I wonder if God is disgusted,
That we cradle screens, not His Creation.
That the glow of pixels blinds us,
To the warmth of earth, the kiss of sun.
I wonder if He is saddened,
That laughter canned on sitcom stages,
Outshines the silent symphony of
Barefoot steps on His grass, His canvas.
And this age's cheap distractions—
A feast of hollow nourishment—
Could it be like cancer, unseen?
Gnawing at the marrow of our souls,
Until the treasure of life—
The fleeting, fragile gift—
Fades from our sight, uncherished,
Lost in the noise of the now.