A symphony of a perfect machine
I think and dream
I conquered nature and mastered my destiny
My arrogance stood tall
I put a question mark on my Creator
But I forgot . . . . .

How a particle of food
Descending down the oesophagus
Seized by the swirling molten acid
In the body of stomach,
Provides nourishment
How the nutrients break down amidst the
Thunder of enzymes and catalysts
Move in the broad estuary
Of veins, slow, flow
Under the rapture of the beating heart
Purified far from the roar
In the abyss’ of bronchioles

And below, far from
The surface agitation

How this particle sustains life
. . . . .

As decades pass, in time unpredictable
When, the grand orchestra of organs
Plays incoherent
The nutrient fails

Now safe, in the asylum
Of a demented mind
Where no loved ones come
I remember . . ..

Author's Notes/Comments: 

My take on our arrogance and how easily we forget how fragile we are. There are quite a few medical terms but can be understood as the poem flows. Bronchioles are divisions of the airways and I used purification instead of oxygenation. Please do leave constructive feed back. Thank you

View shazi's Full Portfolio