The Thoughts of a Fan and His Idealism
I exist with a purpose,
Made from plastic and metal,
With a motor as my heart,
and electricity as my blood,
Blades are my arms and legs,
Waving around in clockwise motion,
As I make a humming sound.
I exist with a purpose,
Providing comfort to those in need,
As the air becomes humid,
My masters perspire,
I then come to life,
Not just taking up space,
Filling a vacuum that needs to be filled.
But is there more?
I exist with a purpose,
But what is there afterwards?
I collect dust in my veins,
One day my heart will give out,
I will no longer be alive,
My shell will exist until it is scrapped,
I will be no more.
I exist with a purpose,
A need will arise again,
Even though I will be gone,
Others of my kind will fill my place,
I will not be forgotten,
My purpose will still exist,
And what I am will still be here.
In appearance and in mind.
© 1997 by Mark Manis, all rights reserved
Mark Manis is a special education teacher in Ashland, Kentucky. His work is influenced by observations and experiences of everyday life. He has not been previously published and writes for pleasure.
contact this author