In The Digital Temple
by Dawg
In the digital temple where the faithful stream to gather,
a sermon flows across the waves, a digital pastor’s lather.
Streaming bytes of sacred text, delivered on demand,
proclamations coded in a language they understand.
Here in this new-age chapel, screens light up the dark,
followers tune in from anywhere, a global, virtual ark.
The message is clear, sent through satellite beams,
“In connectivity we trust,” the modern creed it seems.
The preacher’s voice is crisp, through fiber-optic lines,
delivering sermons that intertwine with signs of times.
He speaks of data as salvation, of bandwidth wide and vast,
of clouds like heaven, storing our digital past.
“Repent, refresh, reboot,” he chants with fervor true,
cleansing viruses of doubt, restoring systems anew.
His followers engage, their comments scrolling fast,
likes and shares are amens, in this spiritual broadcast.
The gospel according to tech, a scripture of ones and zeroes,
speaks of salvation not in temples, but in data and its heroes.
Encryption is their shield, and AI their guiding light,
in the stream of consciousness, they find their holy rite.
Yet beneath this glossy surface, where the sacred texts scroll,
lurks the silent question of the digital soul.
What becomes of spirit when it’s translated into code,
stored on servers, in endless binary ode?
In this streaming sermon, where the faithful congregate,
are we merely data points destined to integrate?
Yet the preacher assures, with each byte that he sends,
that in this networked nirvana, our connection never ends.
We log on and listen, in this chapel made of code,
finding community and creed in this cybernetic abode.
For in the glow of the screen, we seek and we yearn,
for a sign, for a signal, in the sermon we stream.