Dear Future Worker
A poem
A poem
What will the workday look like for you, dear grandchild?
Will you commute to a sleek, modern office,
filled with ergonomic chairs and computer screens?
Or will you work from home,
attending meetings in your pyjamas via hologram?
Maybe there will be no office at all,
just the freedom of open roads and natural light
as you move from one remote gig to the next.
They say robots and artificial intelligence
will handle the repetitive tasks.
Lifting, driving, building, serving
automating the predictable and mundane.
Then what will be left for human hands?
The creative and curious pursuits, no doubt.
Your generation will be the poets, innovators,
caretakers of communities and the planet.
But will there be enough work to go around?
Or perhaps you will choose a path
unimaginable to me right now.
New technologies and discoveries will open up
professions not yet dreamed of.
Augmented and virtual realities
we can scarcely conceive.
Your dreams and skills will determine your direction,
if we but give you the space to flourish.
The future is yours to shape, dear one.
Jobs will come and go,
it’s your passion that matters most.
Hold onto your humanity, cultivate empathy and wisdom.
Stay grounded in nature’s rhythms.
No matter how work evolves,
bring heart to all you do.
Keep singing, wondering, always learning.
This is the work without end.