From Toil to Grace – Industrial Revolution to Innovation

Forged in the fire of the Fords and Churchills

We were the hands that built barns and mills

Bent back and blistered palms, grim was our story

Worn thin by the grind, stripped of any glory

But time, the gentle alchemist has turned the wheels anew

Now we stir to bird songs and coffee brew

To days no longer grey with soot, toiling for survival

Where once we marched to factory bells archival

The sun caresses my skin – gleeful, warm and kind

The soft morning breeze gently soothing my mind

Silent mouths, smiling eyes our worth not counted in coins

But in creation, culmination and vision, not just followers blind

Coffee brewing, ideas stewing, the comforting hum of life

A friendly honk, a tip of the hat, not just struggle and strife

Once tethered to the ticking clock, we feel human again

Not just ‘Cogsworth’ captains we are, now we move with Zen