How elaborate, are myths, we celebrate
Perfection seems, their, only creed
Or, ain’t they, digital myths, we create
To sow, in our souls, nihility’s seed!
We baptize them ‘celebs’, ‘stars’, ‘icons’, …
At the altar, of our, inconsequence
And parrot, their puns, like, life’s lessons
Our existence, seems, their pittance!
Who needs, quest, in, age of, conquest
Wherein glory, is a, mad rat-race
We can’t help, but, live this, slugfest
With faith’s façade, o’er, fear’s true face!
In this world, of, digital search, and find
Our lives, are the price, of paid-media
I ain’t the ‘sought’, but the ‘seekers’ kind
You You Don’t Find, Me, On Wikipedia!
© 2021 Vikas Chandra