Shared with W3 #190 – quoting Wordsworth*

The world clicks by in screens of graphic gain,
each hour refined for either profit, loss, or trend.
Praising the sharpest tools ever made to explain,
yet wondering why these days refuse to bend.

I walk beneath the wires and silent trees
and feel a hunger numbers cannot feed.
Our minds seem full of malaise and disease,
which is surely something none of us need.

I’d trade this clever age, so sure it’s new,
to be a Pagan suckled in a creed outworn*,
to hear a god breathe as the wind blows through,
and see the ocean settle for a new dawn.

These times, obsolete is the wonder, not belief;
The myth awakes where certainty may sleep.