Authenticity Poem by Victoria Lyn

Forced contrivance in the name of progress. Authenticity wanders between the zeros and ones that communicate thoughts and emotions. The giant mainframe consisting of the total sum of the world's knowledge, beliefs, fears, hopes, dreams, love…

And you are connected. Very few have managed to survive this 'progress' made by humankind. Cell phones, laptops, home computers or others made accessible through bridging the digital divide.

No more body language to rely upon or looking into someone's trusting eyes with an attempt to lie. In a situation like that, guilt has a chance of winning over its host. No longer.

Added hearts and 'I love you' come to easily, the truth behind their meaning trivialized.

How many 'friends' do you have? A person's worth now judged by the number of 'friends' on a computer-generated profile.

'Life is great! ' writes the person with the blade poised above the wrist he or she is about to slice. 'I hate him.' written in anger by a woman who deeply loves her husband, just feeling momentary anger. Words that, because written, are impossible to take back.

Mystery is no more. Privacy obsolete. Nothing genuine runs between the zeros and ones, ones and zeros.