Our machines; their need to fit;
Investment in the sum of it,
Determined how society
Arranged itself – quite clear to see.
Goods and service, in and out
(Prompt, reliable, no doubt),
Is the way we have arranged
Daily life – that nothing’s changed.
Force of nature, way it acts
Forms the basis – of those facts
Do not waver, just respond
To conditions’ winsome song.
That’s the tune we’ve learned to sing
Harmony to life it brings
Output flows like rivers old
“Such is modern life”, we’re told.
Craftsmen are irregular
In their work as passions stir;
Rules of thumb; with movements deft;
Roll with season, niche, and cleft.
Skills take craftsmen long to gain –
Hold reflection in the main;
Tweaks, adjustments, out of norm,
Elaborate some parts of form.
Variation, local color?
“Maladjusted” – viewed as sour
By the “Business enterprise”;
Variation is despised.
Interstitial links as well
Must co-ordinate to sell;
Basis of economy?
Order (crushes souls we see).
Craftsman on a third-world street,
Beaten gold plates at his feet;
“How much for this plate?” “Two bucks”
“For a hundred plates – how much?”
“Thousand each,” the craftsman said,
“If I made those I’d be dead;
Upside down you people are –
One-off plates are best by far.”
Thanks Lord for this.