In cloistered rooms and factory floors, each hand that works, each heart that sores, from morning light to evening’s end, to your strength and will, this ode we send.
To the quiet ones behind the screen, in homes unseen, where work convenes, bathed in soft computer light, crafting codes from dawn till night.
To the steadfast souls on assembly lines, whose every movement intertwines, with the rhythm of the industry’s beat, their diligence never faced defeat.
In-home offices, where silence rings, ideas take form, and aspiration springs, from muted voices on a call, rise innovations that enthrall.
Upon the factory floor, they stand, molding futures with a skilled hand, in the echoes of machinery’s drone, craftsmanship’s majesty is shown.
Two worlds distinct, yet bound as one, in the dance of work that’s never done, to you, we sing in joy, not sorrow, ode to the builders of our tomorrow.
In your hands, we place our trust, your work, a necessity, not just a must, to those at home and those on the floor,
We owe you gratitude evermore.
