In this world that’s always online, people are lost.
Not the kind of lost you fix with a map or a search bar—but the kind that hides behind a smile, a playlist, or a perfect post.
Emotionally, we scroll for warmth but get pixels instead. Everyone’s talking, but no one’s really heard. We’re surrounded by people yet aching for something real. It’s strange how full our screens are, and how empty our hearts still feel.
Spiritually, we’ve traded silence for noise, reflection for reaction. The soul no longer pauses—it refreshes. We chase comfort, not calling. The compass of faith still points north, but we rarely look at it. The more we think we’ve found ourselves, the more we drift away.
Technologically, we’re explorers trapped in a maze we built ourselves. Every click feels like movement, but it’s just motion without meaning. The algorithm knows our next thought, yet we barely know our own. We search everything except truth.
Maybe that’s why peace feels vintage now. The more connected we become, the more disconnected we actually are. We’ve learned to navigate everything—except our own hearts.
And as the city hums with weekend errands, a quiet melody drifts between the noise—reminding us that the way back home isn’t a place, but a peace we’ve forgotten.
Listen on Apple Music, Apple Music Classical, and YouTube Music
⌨ ᴛʸᵖⁱⁿᵍ ᴏᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ʙˡᵘᵉ ᵈᵃʳᵉᵐ ᵐᵘˢⁱᶜ ᵇˡᵒᵍ
