if it is yours
it will come

when you arrive
the door opens

when you enter
the living room
the chair rushes
for you to sit upon

when you are hungry
and you go to the kitchen
the plates and spoons and forks
move by themselves
and serve you food

a room lights itself
the blankets and pillows
arrange themselves
for you to rest and sleep

fate knows what you
become
what you are and
what shall you be
fate seals you
and knows where to
put you
till the end of your
day.

RIC S. BASTASA

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/automation-7/