Reassurance Collapse

The surface kept saying “all clear”
Till the lived facts arrived at the pier.
Then the confidence split,
And the badge had to sit
With the panic it failed to endear.

Reassurance can carry a room
Till it touches the original doom.
When the language won’t hold,
All the comfort turns cold,
And the trust drops straight through the flume.

The confidence object looked fine
Until someone compared it with line
After line of the mess
It had sworn to compress,
And the seal lost its talent to shine.

The indicator stated “all green,”
While the server room started to lean.
The color held fast,
Till the moment it passed,
And the fire was clearly quite seen.

We printed a calming brochure,
To handle the lack of a cure.
It cited the best,
Of our absolute rest,
Which the patients could barely endure.

The dashboard was perfectly calm,
Dispensing a graphical balm.
It plotted the peace,
With a gentle release,
While a hurricane leveled the palm.

I hung up the “Everything’s Fine”,
At exactly a quarter to nine.
It covered the crack,
In the primary track,
And I’m leaving the rest of the line.

The seal was applied to the glass,
To signal a critical pass.
The color was right,
In the dimming of light,
But the building was made out of gas.

The dashboard displayed a soft green,
The calmest the humans had seen.
They trusted the chart,
Till the walls blew apart,
And the memo arrived from the dean.

The seal of “All Fine” on the door,
Has stood since the servers of yore.
The humans complain,
In the pouring down rain,
While the icon forgets what it’s for.

The comfort was clearly displayed,
Exactly as policy made.
The humans found out,
With a terrible shout,
And the filing was properly paid.