As the gears of the machine we’ve wired ourselves into grinds to a screeching halt
This system which was fueled by sweat and creativity and occasionally lubricated by blood
Whose thrums and hums we’ve synched the rhythm of our lives and thoughts to
And we find ourselves in this forced sabbatical as time seems to slow to a crawl
And the machine which daily accepted our offerings closes its gaping maw
Perhaps we wonder if we were merely a parasite on this clunking monstrosity
Maybe we might discover that we were engaged in a symbiotic relationship
Or we may perceive that the machine was slowly but steadily feeding on us
That the lifeblood it gave was more precious than the benefits it provided
And we were merely living batteries tied into the matrix that we powered
The machine is down for maintenance and perhaps we are as well
And when it restarts, which will inexorably occur when this pause ends
What will the relationship between our tears and its gears be?
Will we give our blood and sweat so willingly, be wired in so completely?
Will it be lifegiving to synch our energies to the beat of its mechanical heart?
Or will our relationship change, will the machine change, will we?
What will this unscheduled maintenance for both mean for we and it?
May this forced sabbatical allow us time to listen to the rhythm of our souls
The beat of our own heart, the feelings of our mind, and the language of our body