Transformation Poem by John Prophet

In our
faces.
Constantly,
in our
faces.
Glowing
screens.
Pumping,
pumping out
information
constant
Information.
Inundating,
swamping
the mind.
Washing over,
coursing through.
Minds smoothing,
ideas blending.
Minds altered,
losing
individuality.
Cloud.
All spinning
up,
up
into the
cloud.
Different,
what returns
different
not the same
not individual.
Old minds
filled with
yesterday
fading away.
Old ways dying,
dying
with the old.
Soon,
transformation
will be
complete!