The God Of Our Device

Wandering this path,
That would not be,
If I were not witness to the light.
Treading silently,
These days I see,
Fade into eternal night.

The stars seem
To be stars no more,
Merely signs of inevitability.
The earth revolves
But not as before.
It now spins with increasing futility.

Pray!
Ye mortals who live in fear!
Pray to the god of your device.
Pray, and shed
A Thousand tears,
So you may not pay your price.

Fortune it seems,
Favours you no longer,
Your existence more questionable each day.
Ignorant and unaware,
Of the threat approaching yonder,
You implicitly wither away.

By,
Nikhil Menon