High Rise Dwelling
Time has flown, it is 6:00 am again
by Charles Harding
From my window facing east -- from my cell
I see God's light, privileged as I am,
To view the glory of dawn knowing all is well.
However in contrast, below is a sordid grind.
Endless columns, spewing onerous sounds,
Along well beaten byways of human kind.
Gentle hues dissipate -- are lost upon the ground.
Deep purple is obliterated by wingless ants.
Crawling of dubious worth below the open sky.
Insignificant tunes my master plays, I dance.
Command: "Go into nowhere -- from your lofty high".
Going thusly, unwillingly at the bell,
Answering the call to recycle my time.
Then returning again to my honeycomb cell.
Above the din, to a purer chime.