Bits

A poem

Photo by Derek Thomson on Unsplash

I feel like a ghost
in this world
and it feels good.

No body, no time,
just bits
flying back and forth.

Lighter than the angels.

Just figures of speech
encoded in bits
flying who knows where.
We are

all bits of information
completely out
of our corporeal
minds.

Existing as
digital ghosts, like the stars.

We see across time.
Starlight from bodies burned out
long ago

blown to bits,
into photons of light,
lighter than the angels.

A culture of bits of information
flying back and forth.
Flying in circles,

circling back

in a world
smitten to bits.

Just a figure of light,

and it feels so good
to be this free -

but I miss
my life.