Fall or rise I go on.
Like the ebb and flow of the wave
Lit by the light of moon or sun.
I am the note of the lament or the soaring duet.
I cannot be silenced, I sing my song.
Battered and bruised by erosion
I am the mountain, standing tall in the storm;
I go on.
© 2020 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.
Sweat dripping from my brow
No safety net,
As inconsequential as sweat,
That could be me.
I imagine the fall.
As I struggle to balance
Struggle to keep it all in
Maintain my calm.
Because I can’t go back
I must go on.
© 2016 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.
It was not when the self-service tills began to multiply. Not even when the postal drones made the mailman redundant or the robo-soldiers disarmed the troopers for their own protection did the humans realise they had a problem.
And even when Google and Apple replaced their chief execs with algorithms there was barely a raised eyebrow.
It was only after Politician 2.0 was elected President and began decommissioning us as units surplus to requirements did the human race start to wonder whether progress might not have gone a little far.
© 2015 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.