The Lost Art

He called it the lost art,

but the only thing that was lost is ourselves,

to be sane you must be insane only to find sanity again,.

 It was almost un human to not be this lost,

slowly a host residing in a robots mind…

suddenly life seemed virtual…

we cannot function without it.

He said it was the lost art even the books live in the virtual world,

the physical touch of a book seemed ancient,

 I had still not adapted it was my mind agreeing this was fates joke of placing me in the wrong century.

un trainable to adapt?

or am I?

its  been awhile since the last poem.

I don’t deny the virtual seduction of vanity,

yet I play the game another soul lost in the tech world…

in-between the warrior life and the now forgotten part of myself that longed to be human again,

I too was slowly becoming a virtual nomad in the virtual reality,

somehow it seemed better than real life.

The lost art could only come back when we find ourselves again before technology ruled.

It can be found in the hearts of the old souls ,

those connected to the ancient world…

In conclusion:

Times have changed technology holds the key to our future and our demise,

we must find our way back to the simplicity that made us human,

• writing words, reading, the romance of a hand written letter.

we depended on the technology for everyday life.

The art is not lost if we find ourselves again…