SCI-FI/FANTASY Poem: Walking Machine, by Arda Ünal

On the move,
always going for the next far thing.

Sometimes in a hurry,
sometimes dragging my feet.

The road is the same either way.

All I do is to move:

Movement itself
is the constant,
but I’m told that’s just life.

Can’t be helped, they said
doesn’t matter if you’re built for that or not,
luckily, I am.

steps and steps and steps,
and more steps and more steps,

Always going for the next far thing.
sometimes with people,
sometimes with rain

…and a cuckoo with a cowboy hat.

Joking,
I wanted to check if you were still reading.
(you do, right?)

I walk alone,
all the time.

Not that
it is by choice;

Neither going for the next far thing
nor being alone

It is just that,
I haven’t met
another walking machine yet.