The Muted Quill

In Silence — where Verses breathe —
A Screen now — dims the Light —
Where Poetry once trembled soft
Now Pixels — steal the Might —

The Stream — a siren's endless Call —
Displacing Thought and Dream —
Where Verses once would rise supreme —
Now flickers — a vapid Scheme —

How many Poems — never born
Behind the Glowing Pane —
How many Worlds — remain Unsung
Consumed by Digital Reign —

The Poet's Solitude — now rent
By Constant — Fleeting Scenes —
Where Silence bred Imagination
Now Distraction — intervenes —