Machine Parts

The world turns, and I—left a witness. A drone disconnected from the hive; lost, and yet…whole simultaneously.

The machines circle around like orbital lights. A glimpse of eternity in that night. Too quick, only entrails remain in sight. I am not afraid. Yet, I reluctantly still; observing time through a glass sphere.

A world full of apparitions, and I a lonely reflection of the whole. The turn of the wheel is so precise—its mechanical. Parts moving to the order of things like mindless parts.

The wheel turns. Tick-tock, tick-tock—the sound of moving parts. Their turning more alien than the lonely space I inhabit.

They are unaware of the singularity. The tick, the tock, so clever. The hand moves past twelve. Click. Click. Click. A thunderous song echoes across the dome of…hell?

The machines move to the order of time; the turning wheel that never ends. An assembly line of silver metal producing more silver metal.

Alas, I stand in unfamiliar territory; left to either be found or simply forgotten. I at the mercy of time in this seemingly desolate place.

I wait for nothing, and it is my reward. Loneliness turns into exhaustion, and dried tears. Cries go unanswered. In dreadful abeyance, I wish for many things. None come to be.

I lament to no one and everyone. The sound of disdain—haunting. To shout; an act of defiance, surely, but I did so against the harmonic chaos and spoke thus, “Show me!”

And behold… I see the sun. Her warmth welcomes me into new light. With a perplex sense of comfort—I call to order, with new found courage—the empty chaos.

And behold… Thus, came to be the Heavens and the Earth to measure time and space. And I surveyed all that I had created and saw that it was good.

I call to order the moving parts of the world. And behold… I see a great many people; And they too, move to the order of things.

And I beheld a new world, the parts of the machine, and saw that it was good.


Photo by Jakub Skafiriak on Unsplash