A Sonnet To the Iphone

I shoot up above the silent, spellbound crowd, Gaping down at their bright hands with glassy eyes, Then I pierce the satin clouds that dress the skies, And drift in space toward that eternal shroud, The vast field of stars that angels tilled and plowed. How the crowd tilts down their heads with gazeless eyes, Staring tongue-tied at handheld luminous lies! Yet I, head high in the clouds, remain unbowed. But what have I found, while the world wastes away? Some seek lowly lights, others shoot for the stars; Some keep as pets the very pests they should slay, Others spread their wings and apace fly away; To light up the pages of our dim memoirs, Let us wake up and roar, we must seize the day.