Standing high above the earth,
Staring out through the tinted glass of a concrete and steel monolith,
                     The world seems serene and orderly.

The cars in the parking lot are like a mosaic of metallic tiles,
       In a black asphalt grout, embellished with white parking stripes,
                                               and  all lined up in orderly rows.

    The windswept arches and gentle curves of the pale clouds against the
pastel-blue sky
             are in sharp contrast to the boxy shapes

                  and straight lines of the man made earthbound objects that sprawl
across the landscape.

           The contrived walkways of tree lined concrete give the surreal effect of mixing

natures random design
                              with human convenience.

 

By the movement of the trees, I can see that the there is a slight breeze
 blowing from the west.

 

         Behind me captive beings sit deathly still, staring into the hypnotic glowing                          

  eye of digital madness,
                       Brains working furiously in comatose bodies.

Despite eerie dull murmurs that sound vaguely human, all appear lifeless.
                           Like looking at a still photograph while inaudible sounds rumble in the distance. 

      And like me, they each sell part of their soul every day, for their precious dollar.

The cherished dollar that pays the mortgage, contributes to college funds, rents movies and saves for retirement. That dollar does lots of things.

           And it is needed to survive, so here we sit, floundering in our discontented resolve.

All would rather be elsewhere, yet each clutches to their job

                                              as a man sentenced to death will cling to hope.

                 For we fear deprivation more than we value the best part of our lives.

         It is an unjust bargain we submit to every day,

                              to trade a day of our life for dollars. A bizarre bargain made not out of choice,

     but out of need.

                                   A perfect absurdity.

My precious break time is almost at an end. Every 2 hours we get 15 minutes to try to refresh what little humanity we have left.
            In a few moments I must rejoin the mumbling undead masses.

Despondently I reflect on how truly unimportant we really are.
                                                     Our ideas mean very little,

                       and our individuality means nothing.

Looking at the trees, it appears that the breeze has picked up a little.