Once, words held empires in its grip
ink spilled revolution across brittle parchments
characters leapt from the spines of books
and silence was sacred in libraries
Pages echo truths that are verbalised only in books
a single line wounds or heals scarred souls
Imagination wasn’t a luxury
but a lifeline
Now time scrolls endlessly
and meanings are measured in metrics
fiction fades beneath fractured distraction
pages closed; tabs open
Novels that shaped nations, reduced to redundant hashtags and pixels
poetry lost in the lines of algorithms
tales that once built society gather dust by screens
The world no longer waits for wisdom
it hungers for immediacy why this word?
The less quiet reading
the more noisy scrolling
the death of literature
the rusted etch forgotten with a swipe!
April, 2025
