On the K.Syndrome

After Y 2 K,
One thousand became the captivating K.
Persons and things are packed in K.
Newspapers report''one thousand Ks
Rescued from trains,stranded in floods''.
Letters now carry the weight of words.
As the space for time is getting shrunk,
Minimal size,manifests maximum stuff.
The progressive power of the brain
Petrifies the myth called speed,
Through its process of reduction modules.
Like too much of money,in too less currency,
Like too much of sense,in too few smiles,
Like the world of substance hidden in silence,
The K syndrome is a miniaturising mode,
That carries cyclops as cyber wares.
All is well in uploads and downloads,
Until the wizards are rattled by server errors
Corrupting the system,with a load of time.
The old blocks of manual glory,keep mocking
At the chips,whose charisma celebrates the pygmy.
Dictionaries are dying an unceremonious death 
In the hands of keyboards chopping down words,
Like the guillotine cutting down innocent heads. 
Letters are nailed on the complimentary coffins
Of words,killed by electronic agents of Terminators.
The K syndrome is a killing factor,mulling of mortuaries,
Where less laughs at more,with its Lilliputian mischief,
Like invisible ants hacking the Himalayan heights.
It is like elegies transforming into empowering epics;
The mighty universe shrinks,to soar on its statistics.
P. Chandrasekaran