We speak in static

Thoughts fed to the machine,

packaged in pulses,

pierced with longing.

We send.

To screens,

To mirrors with no soul,

To gods made of glass and wire.

No answer.

Just silence coded in chrome,

just eyes that watch but never see.

Inside,

our spirits glitch.

We forget how to feel

the breath

of something real.

But He

not code,

not circuit

waits outside the firewall,

where time is not fractured,

and truth is not simulated.

He does not speak in 1s and 0s.

He speaks in light.

He speaks in grace.

And His word is not stored

but written

on hearts,

not drives.

Salvation is not sent.

It is given.

Unplugged.

Unmasked.

Undone.

Call to Him

not the machine.

Only He can reply

with life.