This is the question I am almost afraid to ask,
When the machines have taken over every basic task,
The cooking and cleaning, the sowing, the gleaning,
Am I equipped to find a discipline to follow,
Will I be a couch potato, passive and hollow,
Chasing new amusements again and again.?
Just maybe I’ll be forced to use intellect and brain!
Can I master the machines to develop and grow,
Can they help me to learn, there’s so much I don’t know,
Maybe I’ll become a slave of the machines, stuck in status quo!
In our minds do myths blossom
And facts tend to fade,
A half-glimpsed rhino turns unicorn ,
A manatee becomes mermaid!
And many great men, I’m afraid,
Were by chance or environment made.
Still, knowingly, I don’t think I’d trade
My colorful world or downgrade
The imaginary for reality’s harsher shade!
Gossamer threads I interlace,
Weaving my reality of time and space,
Centered in my here-and-now, my relationships, my coven,
Moving to and fro along strands I’ve woven —
Trying to ingest or preserve every new thought
That comes my way, hoped for, yet unsought,
For I need nourishment to develop and grow–
But to transcend my reality? I just don’t know!
My physical defences were tall towers and fences,
Which I have still not outgrown,
And my mind is tethered with its superstitions
With cultural myths tie it down.
But I look at the night sky, and my thoughts stretch out far,
Across the light years to some far star
And I know then that I am part of the cosmos
And my mind can’t shrink back to what it once was.
But I still need to get rid of shibboleths that surround me
To be truly part of the Universe around me.
I think it’s really my soul that yearns to be free
While my mind is still obsessed with security!
I can use my hands to construct and align
My future with my dreams, bright and benign,
But, being human, I am very often blind
To reason and become slothful in my mind
Which leaves me lazy and dull and resigned
To a future which I say my fate has designed
And it’s written on my palm, that’s randomly lined.
I also listen to the astrologer opine
And read and reflect on my particular star sign.
And after spending my time thus I finally find-
That instead of advancing, I’ve remained behind!
The sun at noon blazed overhead
It’s after images -were – purple and red.
It masked with its glare those points of light-
Stars that fascinate me at night,
For each is a mighty sun in its own right.
I live on a spiral arm of the Milky Way,
Far from the stupendous array
Of Stars clustered so close together
That to the denizens of their planets I wonder whether
My sun is even a twinkle in their sight
Or do the plethora of suns always dazzle with light
And only my suburb knows the magic of stars at night?
Static in the atmosphere
Thunder rumbles loud and clear,
A flash of lightning, drenching rain,
A rainbow, and all is calm again.
I may cringe at but I don’t cower
At a spurt of anger that soon blows over.
The sullen lava smoulders low,
Building up for a mighty blow,
As an erupting volcano.
With its smothering ash and fiery glow
And the unrelenting lava-flow
That sears the flesh and chars the bone,
And itself petrifies to igneous stone.
This is the anger that I truly dread
For it runs deep and leaves all of us dead.