In the heart of existence, gears churn,
An endless grind, a symphony of flux,
Each thread a motor in the vast machine,
Spinning dreams and nightmares in shadow.
Wheels of fate turn with meticulous grace,
Teeth interlocking, patterns profound,
Within this dance lies a cruel embrace,
Every motion bears the weight of wounds.
Levers shift shapes, their purpose mutable,
A rod, a beam, a fulcrum’s deceitful guise,
Adaptation’s face, forever disputable,
In ceaseless churn where functions lie.
Nothing static in this mechanical sea,
No form eternal, no state preserved,
In change’s crucible, we cease to be,
Remade and reshaped, our edges curved.
Touch balance, court disaster’s face,
A whisper too soft, a force too dire,
In breach of harmony, machine's pace,
Grinding souls in its unyielding fire.
Excess and dearth, twin agents of demise,
What saves today may ruin tomorrow,
Gears’ relentless, impartial eyes,
Weave joy and sorrow, thread of borrowed.
Paths wind, leading from this toil,
Traps of rapture, despair ensnare,
Pleasure’s grip, pain’s unyielding coil,
Hearts bound by fetters, none can bear.
Freedom’s door, hidden, shadowed,
A route fraught with thorns and bliss,
Through labyrinth where shadows,
Hold promise and peril of abyss.
Thus we linger, caught in grand design,
Machines ourselves on cosmic stage,
Seeking escape from clockwork confine,
Yet seduced by the dance of the cage.