I walk into the factory
singing along to the jingles
of the white robotic arms
I walk in sync with the speed
of the slowest conveyor belt
transporting a spherical object
too many spherical objects
I wonder
what is the object
what does this factory manufacture
as I inhale the dusty air
as I am bathed in grayish sweat
sticky, uncomfortable
yet I continue pushing this trolley
sleeping on top of it, is a
holy machine filled with light
it is commonly marketed
that it is lighter than light itself
yet it weighs tremendously heavier
than any one piece
of my broken heart
The machine arrives
in front of the eyes of a person
with four arms
two on the left, two on the right
three legs
all below the torso
two lips
one above the other
and a single eye
spanning two-thirds the face
above the lips
"Good morning
I am from
nice to meet you
how are you doing
this fine morning
I have brought my MACHINE with me
will you have a look"
As a single eye stares at the
black, rigid, squarish machine
I release all muscular tension
and drop to the floor
kneeling
bowing to the machine
the humble golden crown
the peaceful light emanating from
the end of my life's tunnel
watching the spasms of the machine
tug onto the gaze of the single eye
as the two lips of the person
start singing a beautiful song
"how would it be like
if the world is filled with the chatters
of the orphaned birds
flapping their single wings
gliding through the red sky
home to a bloodied sun
yet as they fall from the sky
losing all will to live
their last words are merely
their love for one another"
As I walk with the person
I could barely keep up with the pace
of the three legs
running forth like a headless chicken
yet shivering like a one-winged bird
I hear a shriek
a sharp pitch that impales my eardrums
like a needle going through the palm
like a hammer pummeling the head
as the two lips yearn for love
as the single eye learns to see
the world around the person
has been painted a crimson tint
The four arms
each as big as an narrow office tower
barely scraping the skies
barely wobbling around
each arm grabs hold of the nearest object
the spherical objects
that the forsaken factory manufactures
all day, all week
all month, all year
since the birth of a savior
our savior
a holy white robe
and a single white eye
the eye of ultimate truth
the eye that sees through all lies
and I realize
deep inside all of our deceitful hearts
a single eye lies asleep
and when it learns to see
it learns to love
This factory is charitable at heart
manufacturing copies of the
single eye within us
and it is all thanks to
a machine
my machine
me, the machine
As I emit the light of love
from the abyss within my two lips
the single eyes are manufactured
waiting to be installed into the swollen eye sockets
of all in this world
yet if I am so loved in this world
yet if I am such a savior of the world
why are my three legs constantly sprinting
to a direction up, down, left, or right
or anywhere and everywhere in between
Yet if I am the most useful machine
yet if I am the light itself
why are my four arms
flailing around, desperately
trying to hold onto everyone and anyone
that runs away from me?
YOU ARE READING
Nebula at Sea
PoetryThe journey of a man venturing into a world of insecurities, apathy, and strangeness. A story of growing up. A rhythm of escaping into the fantasy of the self. This is a collection of poetic stories through sufferings, hardships, and recovery. A rev...
