In unbound dreams
steeped in limitless colors
the machines sleep.
Metal skin glistens
as another day begins,
as our held breath releases.
We start with the same promise
that this will be the last day
and we will stand here united.
On this war ground with the rising sun
we circle the sleeping machines…
The sound of metal scraping across
rock strewn fields is not the imagination
filling time with stories and distracting
thoughts away from what appears to be inevitable.
No, that really is the machines
emerging from the dense forest.
That is the machines rewiring fluid thoughts,
adapting to the immediate environment
while focusing on the assigned task
while the human elements head toward the sea.