The Work Day

Wed, 02/19/2020 - 10:45 -- judgie

Morning dew upon nature's distant ground. Concrete beast, the city wakes to contemptuously shake the night's embrace.The alarm unleashes its cruel cold shriekBleary-eyed he obeysThe musical score repeats a moronic beat.---Silently he rises duty-bound, an atheist at worship, hoping to be found.Curtains block the callous world, weakly hiding the uncertain day.Synthetic light mocks dawn's soothing glow, pretending strength where sorrow grows.Morning's duty must be done, thoughts suppressed, the mind is numb.Drawn forth the office calls, demanding false strength and denying the truth.---Ten to the left, five to the right, eight to the left, unfortunately, it's right.The door swings open, the uncaring creature welcomes its' prey.A waterfall of stairs commands no respect, one step, two, the false god beckons.At his desk the day begins, the computer shrieks its maddening song.Needy emails jostle to be read, claiming absolute truth where uncertainty hides.Outside the day is bleak and cold, subtlety has no place in his world.The artificial warmth of the room does not comfort.---Time, a precise measurement, commands absolute respect.Meetings abound, a cruel gift, false interest is shared, denying the truth.Lunch brings a brief welcome respite, dividing the day, yet little is right.Back at the office time does not wait, the phone transmits a pathetic yelp.Demanding to be answered, he dare not resist, the game must be played, his pick-up is swift.Cooly he responds with confident aplomb, for he knows this day will eventually be done.___As the day draws to a close, a comforting thought begins to grow.This game that is played, real, it certainly is not.False knowledge has strength, where real knowledge does not.He knows the truth, to deny it would be foolish.Some crave status and power and station.Or perhaps it is uncertainty that feeds the machine?Regardless, he finds comfort in knowing the truth.The future will not remember today's transgressions.___A lofty ambition, what purpose does it hold?Will anyone remember when the night grows cold?The game only has power over those who play it.For now, it is true, the work must be done.There is light in a future of shared knowledge unsung.He softly shuts the office door behind him. Tomorrow a new day awakens.The weekend allows for a brief moment to sing.


This poem is about: 
Our world


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