Connected

In the comforts of our prison, we seek and scan, Losing our connections while connected at hand, Lies we invent just so our facade can ascend, Obliviously blissful, all just for pretend, Inconspicuously driving us to resent, Every part of our lives. A Living discontent. So heads up. Open your eyes and put down your hand, Let's connect by presence, not by messages sent. Be in the now. Forget schedules and live unplanned, Look around and feel your senses flood in content, Feel the beat of your heart and the heat of your scent. Our senses are what truly connects us. Godsend.