It is incredibly fragile.
More like a web of hair winding through the city
Than a spider’s web that bounces back.
Electric current run through my veins; support me.
More moved to soak in the sun than taste the flow of a water-dam or take in the scent of a coal-burner.
Knock it down,
Down and out with the lights they go black.
They cannot see, cannot search.
Their voices throw complaints at this power-gone-out,
But I laugh.
Reading with the light of the still-rising sun I smile behind the safety of my book.
I do not need to be recharged,
I’ve got the power of the sun to bring me to stand.
They’ve got themselves depending on breakable things,
Leaning on a dry branch as if it would hold them up as long as they need,
Don’t know that a dry thing will snap if you push it too much.
How easy it would be to bring down a place like this,
All strung together, their failing crutch.
Must be in sync.
Must be connected.
But don’t they know?
Connection disconnects when a sacrificial tree topples and their circuit ceases to exist.
Their power cannot reach their devices and their shoulders fall.
Does anyone have a generator to bring them back to life?
And why won’t they regenerate when the lines are cut?
Come back to life,
Find your power in the sun.