I will sing a song
to the ancients,
pleading for wisdom
and their blessing.
“Please send me a simple message!”
Sing? Well, speech-to-text
will suffice, I’d say.
But, I feel my pleas
will go unanswered.
“I just need a direction!”
Grandmother,
keeper of secrets,
burn your incense
and speak to me
from the early times
when less distraction
made things… easier… (?)
“So, what, you fought actual wolves?
We are hunted, too.
In our darkness, the dim glow
of our smart phones
is the beast that chews.
The unscarred are few.”
Will they save me?
Save or send…
This electronic wolf growls
and hungers within,
where he tracks the sent.
“I will check again.”
Perhaps that ancient
message was sent
to the junk folder…
oh, there it is:
“My child, the ancients speak
of the fear of the wolf,
and when he was near,
we simply would not go
where the wolf went.
So, the elders, and ancients all,
would just like to tell you
to put down your phone,
but not before you show us
how to insert the laughing
face and where it goes.”
©️ Obol, 2019.
