Up from the chair, Matthew arose, From the hum that held him in its throes. A vibrating seat that would not release, Bound to its fifteen minutes of peace.
It buzzed and it whirred, a steady refrain, A comfort, a habit, a gentle chain. Holding him there in its timed embrace, Keeping him fixed in one small place.
But something within said, “Now is the hour,” A whisper of freedom, a stirring of power. So up he stood, though the chair still called, No longer content to remain installed.
For life is not lived in cycles confined, Nor purpose fulfilled by a resting mind. Sometimes we rise, though comfort is near, To answer a call we’re meant to hear.
Ecclesiastes 9:10 (KJV) “Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might…”
