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by Logan
Rated: E · Poetry · Technology · #2168430
The more channels we have, the less we seem to convey

Waiting for the bright blue light
An urgent flash of green
Digital the message flies
Zeroes, Ones... unseen

Conveyed upon lines, binary
The letters swoop and fly
Forming words so cautiously
As sentences swing by

Constructed so meticulous
Coded to accord
A Trojan's course, felicitous
Loaded with import

To be received and understood
Decoded as was planned
With channels often not so good
Downloaded as it stands

With notes lost in refinery
A weakness that impedes
A flaw within the binary
It can't convey the need

No matter how its wanted, yearned
The soul oft can't traverse
With envelopes and icons earned
... the things we lose are worse

With LED's like star charts
We navigate our nights
Screens flashing through the dark parts,
panicked, artificial lights

Confirming memorandums
Have reached their target safe
And been relayed in tandem
As the Chinese whispers chafe

With communications scrambled
By our ghosts in the machine
Each light we see's a gamble
A wish touched, heard... or seen

Through third party devices
Filtered blindly through a screen
Organised and sanitised
Normalised, sanguine

A plea, binary, flashing
In the darkness of our nights
with hopes locked up in handsets
… and urgent neon lights
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