Underneath The Whirring​

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Faded beige plastic box, 

We were born together.

Hardware a blend of DNA, 

The cacophony of programs run,  

Living in constant distraction, 

Addiction to deceptive fun.

Unchangeable past, unknowable future, 

as black hair slowly turns grey, 

More programs fill the shrinking mind

Noise shouldn't have a final say...

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Underneath the sea of thought, 

In the depths of the machine, 

Observing with open awareness, 

Lies the operating system

Peacefully being.