I gaze upon these rusted chains
And wonder
Of all the tasks they once performed.
Linear bits of steel forged like a molecular strain.
Banded together to hold something fast,
To pull an object a certain way,
To suspend a heavy load from a tower,
To subdue the perceived offender.
What strength, what power
Devised by man.
To ease the burden of a difficult task,
To secure a thing of value to its place,
To hold me tight to a core belief.
Ah, but these chains have a duality,
It would seem to me.
Hard and gray, functional but not beautiful.
Heavy with the weight of oppression,
They confine and restrict,
Chafing both skin and mind,
Sinister in its purpose,
I find.
And is that not the nature
Of all things made by the hand of man?
To build and preserve as a noble task
The ugly chains we forever cast.
