Rhythmic thrum, the chanting clue:
Cycling hums
And driving drums -
But has it a soul?
Spinning cogs give living sense:
Finely cast
To ever last -
But has it a soul?
Glaring cables channel life:
Finely laid,
From copper made -
But has it a soul?
Sparkling lights in random tune:
Border screens
In busy greens -
But has it a soul?
Now switch is thrown - machine to dawn,
Commencing mantra -
Raison d'etre:
Functioning,
Producing,
Consuming,
Seducing -
Makes music and dance,
Unleashing its charms.
Creators are honoured:
She's bearing her soul.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem