Nearsighted hunchbacks dimly pass the time
Watching the victories and failures of
Liquid crystal denizens. Watching all
Across the meaningless distances spanned
By gold filaments and fiber optics.
Distances are eliminated while
Voids greater and lasting fill their spaces.
The crisscrossing wires wrap around the globe
And trap the earthbound daughters and sons of
Spiders who spun too much web to escape.
As if leaving was on their minds – eyes
That cannot see through flimsy manmade screens
Cannot dream of higher and further things.
So hunching to their screens they keep their watch
As all around them the void thickens in
Its emptiness. Rampant webs of purblind
Spinners indiscriminately catch prey.
Whether bright-eyed youth or graying matrons,
Intellectual or professional,
All the quick will become mere spectators
Within the spreading demon-weave dragnets.
The quick and the dead will be difficult
To distinguish in the encompassing
Torpor. “As it should be!” says our fey foe,
“For my victory is achieved when great
And small children of men do naught but lie.”