The Hall

Click-Clack, Click-Clack

Click. Clack.

Twenty glowing lights illuminate

The cold walls.

A voice,

Like the voice of God,

Filling the space with commands

And laws.

Not a sound comes,

Listening for more.

Turned away from the world,

Intent on the words

A square box is the master,

Each a slave.

Chained in place,

No effort is required

But only motions

Muscle memory, it seems.

As if summoned,

A simple cue is given

Ring-Ring, Ring-Ring

Ring. Ring.

Unchained, each move

The voice quiets to silence

Up and out to the hall.

Each a slave

Still.