Tidings

A thrum of words from cyberspace

Engages minds, as market news

Is stored in memory’s data base.

Stockpile of a human race

In ever swelling hoard accrues.


The keyboards clack, the emails race

The websites yield their endless views.

The angels wait: their ancient place

Is hi-jacked by an alien race

Whose words the mysteries abuse.


Oh, clear the words, let cyberspace

Delete the new, let old be heard.

Let angels’ song and praise replace

The logic of a chattering race

With tidings of the Incarnate Word.