As I walk towards my destination
listening to naught but music to my ears,
a reassuring breeze blows across my face
for a while I shall forget my fears.
Heaven glows with an orange tinge,
as though the clouds were set on flames.
My dear friend is setting for today
to return home, quite far away.
The Lord paints his canvas (behold!)
perhaps the stories never told.
My path is narrow, yet very long.
But when the evening sings, I’ll sing along
From mass produced circuits to the assembly line,
every one to be made with your redundant design.
The one less than perfect, the merciless world shall discard.
A mere slave to you, it shall work hard.
The machine shall execute your work, that’s true.
But that is all it was programmed to do.
You assign it to work for the betterment of mankind,
but expect it not to have its own mind.
It has no life of its own, it has no desire.
No love or pain may run through its wire.
It cannot question, just obey and submit.
Until it’s break-down, it may never quit.
You designed, created, programmed, and employed.
You shall merely replace it when it has been destroyed.