The Monster We Feed - A Narrative Poem
Feeding The Beast
Where do the things I write here go? Does someone in cyberspace read them and judge me for what I think or how I feel? Of course. Just as I do the same with the things I read. We all do it. We take in what we want, and spew out the rest. These are not overly worrying factors for me, but still... it is a bit disconcerting to think some cyber-spy could be out there, lurking - reading - judging - even stealing my work – my innermost thoughts.
In the world we live in - this high-tech civilization where the internet is king, and we are nothing more than the mere mortals who worship it unceasingly - what can we expect from the powers that be in matters of our privacy? Is privacy even a thing anymore? Certainly it is implied and there are laws that are supposed to protect our privacy, but the reality is more terrifying than we may ever know.
There is a real and tangible threat lurking in the deepest, darkest corners of cyber-space. A monster that waits for us... feeds off of us, and our willingness to give it our information - things so personal no one should ever have - that we should be in fear of even looking at a computer much less feeding it our personal information – willingly entrusting the beast with our innermost selves. Maybe even our souls...
Why do we open ourselves to this horrid threat? It's that same old basic need - that inherently human need to be heard. To be remembered. To have something to show for our existence when we are no longer able to walk the earth and show people who are willing to look - the things we have created – the very essence of our creative nature. It is our work… our art. It is that which makes us who we are, and yet... who we are not, because we change from day to day. We evolve to become more than we once were, and yet... so too does the beast. It grows more hungry with every morsel we feed it. It wants more with every drop of information we allow it to drink in. It thirsts for our personal information, our thoughts, our dreams, our desires, and our secrets... especially the secrets. It gulps them down like a dying man in a desert - ever gasping for more... more... more...
© 2017 C A Bennett