That Thing

I plopped down in my usual spot and pressed the button that brings that thing to life that thing that has pride of place in our lounge in front of which we sit for hours paying it our undivided attention not only hearing it, but listening to it around which we routinely gather whilst almost unnoticed we chew and swallow our evening meal that thing that informs and delights that keeps us abreast that allows us, guilt-free to step into the land of wishes and fantasy letting loose the reins of reason and censure to witness acts of terrible violence and cruelty without evoking our moral or ethical obligation to object or intervene to feel love and kinship for people that we do not know who, in minutes, effortlessly master the hardships and the miseries that sap our resolve, deplete and diminish us that thing that is vibrant and alive pulsing with flawless sound and high definition colour yet renders us languid and inert which has us passively seated, silent observers, non-participants that thing that leaves us unanchored and lost, forlorn and aimless when the gods of electricity withhold their gift rendering it mute and blank that thing that is everything almost.