The Factory

Factory of darkness and soot,
what patron saint or god would possess
the concrete and glass of your flesh?
What in creation do you express?

Is the rhythm of your toil tuned
to the voices of higher spheres?
Is the shuttle of your machines
metered by godly engineers?

Do you in heaven’s long body
have a service or place,
or have you fallen from creation
to a void without meaning or grace?

Factory of darkness and soot,
when the ancient father of the sky
plucked the seed of the universe
from his contracted thigh, did he sigh?

Did his eye hold you in the scope
of his rising almighty sight,
did you excite his heart, or did you
obscure the power of his light?

Factory of darkness and soot,
what order of men do you oppress?
What is your service, your place?
What in creation do you express?

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