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Rated: E · Prose · Internet/Web · #1863302
A commentary on the anonymity promoted by the internet. An exercise in article spinning.
Lurkers


They Live in Shadows

They live in shadows. Children of cyberspace; without a face, they can be anyone. Rebels of an unknown cause, they fight for the ultimate freedom: freedom from names, from expectations and from themselves. Heroes or losers, they are manifestations of our lost dreams. Funny how in this age of information superhighway, when we can connect to people of every race and creed at the tips of our fingers, it seems so easy to lose touch of our souls. Why is there a price for everything? Every step forward is a step away from our origins. And if we travel far enough and lose sight of where we came from, we forget and become adrift. Then let us play game-like children. One will stay at home with arms outstretched, then another will clasp the other's hand and in turn extend an arm to the next person. And so on it will be, a living interlinked chain stretching from the hearth to the farthest reaches of space. Let us promise never to let go of each other, to never envy another’s reach, and in turn to never look down on another’s position. So goes my dream, but what am I? I am a lurker, just another lurker. And my dream is lost in cyberspace.

They Thrive in Shadows

They thrive in shadows. Spun from the World Wide Web, they are faceless nomads of this techno dream. Soldiers of fortune; they fight for freedom from being known, from being recognized and from simply being. Idealists or pessimists, they embody our plundered souls. Ironic in an era of social networking that allows us to project our every thought and fancy to the furthest reaches of the globe, it seems inevitable that we should lose our moorings. Why is there a downside to every progress? Every leap for technology is a leap away from nature. And if we continue in our journey, we destroy our home, and we turn into vagabonds drifting from place to place without finding rest. Then let us pretend we can be innocent again as children. Let us hold hands and form a line extending from the earth to space, as far as our imagination can roam. Then we never lose touch of the green grass even as we wonder at the myriads of galaxies in front of us. Let us vow to always hold on, always support each other without rancor, and to be happy for each other’s perspective. That is my vision but who am I? Am I not a lurker with a plundered soul?

They are Born in Shadows

They are born in shadows. A product of the internet era; they wear masks of many faces surfing from site to site. Mercenaries, they fight for a cause not their own because they own nothing, not even themselves. They are our indifference, our alienation, our selves bereft of hope. Reality or fantasy, they are the misbegotten children of our rape. Strange that in this day and age where every aspect of our lives is connected and online, we are still without a clue. Why are there no happy endings? Every progress comes with a cost. And if we ignore this cost, we lost our purpose, and we simply drift without direction. Then let us make-believe we are children once again. Let us recapture our ideals and make it tangible, let one child hold on to it with one hand while the other hand extends to another child who is also holding on to another child. Let this continue to the final child reaching the threshold of the future bearing all that we envision because the first child and all the rest did not let go. Let us make a pact to stay true and never let discord, greed or ambition sway our course. Thus is my hope but I am just a lurker, nothing more.
© Copyright 2012 gorbash (mackyperton at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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