Glassy-eyed, we walk past these corridors,
Chasing numbers across our yawning days.
A hamster’s hunt through the glass doors
Of swanky corporate offices, scurrying past
Our portapotty cubicles, our diurnal homes,
Like defeated castle gnomes, downcast,
Eking out one final groan, one final chase.
What kind of life is this? Who made this so?
How did we submit to this existence?
We who are made in His image, we who know
Better - we who are mirrors reflecting His Magnificence?
"How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives." – Annie Dillard