In the nascent digital age,
we pixelate our dreams,
cut and paste desires,
CTRL+Z mistakes it seems.
With every click,
we modify our narrative,
yet the soul’s raw file?
Uneditable, declarative.
Echoes of ancestors,
DNA’s tight grip,
you can filter your photos,
but the soul don’t trip.
In the beats of the heart,
in the depth of the eyes,
there’s a truth unchanged,
it never belies.
Systemic structures,
they want you confined,
but the soul?
It’s free, won’t be redesigned.
Try as they might,
to program your role,
they can’t touch the code of the indelible soul.
Life’s a manuscript,
rewrites abound,
but the soul’s verse?
Eternal, profound.
In a world of edits,
revisions, and scrolls,
remember, my friend,
they can’t script our souls.
- mOjolism -
