Dynamics

Like winter amidst a natural spring 
There is only so close I can get
No matter how much I wish to permit 
To anyone I have met- sort of speaking 
Who remains at some quantifiable distance 
Both in geography and metaphorically 
Which creates an unfathomable chasm 
That is just too axiomatic to honestly ignore 
Not all things are made to be compatible 
The clacking of these keys isn’t my voice
Parsing words in lines does nothing for my ears
That used to appreciate the nuances of tones
While watching the flutter of eyelashes  
As real people connect within a real language
Missing micro cues affirmed our understandings
Even more emphatically when it came to emotions
That are patently obscured now in black and white 
Amongst a deafening universe of ones and zero's   
I’ll never acclimate to machines like it’s human
Nor accept it works like old snail mail 
Despite the fact it is more or less a conduit 
It’s not comfortable and quite simply
As for me, I doubt it was ever in my true nature
It’s about that “unique touch” in all reality 
If not by sight or our logical senses 
Then by touching- with innate emotions 
Oh! how I long for real conversations
That bridged these awful wide gaps 
The ones that move me within, soulfully 
Where chills chase after my thoughts 
Upon a park bench, electronic free 
Gentle snowflakes falling like confetti 
A warm sun and flowers listen attentively
As the breeze calms the grasses to rest 
Birds tweeting mellifluously before flight
And the bees sweetly buzzing about life
As I inhale God’s gift of … fading divineness  

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Poet of the Light © 2021