Clanking, whirring, gears turning,
Running down a murky slope,
We, the Emperors of Earth,
Goaded by the ultimate quest,
The hunt for meaning,
We are enslaved by the glint of gold,
The desire to dominate,
The urge to understand.
With her all-knowing Mother’s smile
And her soft, silvery song, says
Let the children play.
I would love to hear your opinions on my poem. Feel free to post these in the ‘Comments’ section.