The Mechanical Death

August 1, 2012
The Human spirit has been longing,
A search of infinite youth.
The oldest secret of ancient wizards.
The snarled web of truth has been lost,
In darken temples
Lost to the sight of man.
Soon the cogs began to crank
Clicking to a metallic rhythm that pierces the ear.
Land of lore now lost to the production
Of silk robes for the wealthy
But the twist of corrupted metal
Soon entraps the human nature
A non-organic parasite feasting
Dwindling the passion for knowledge
To a life unbidden of beauty
But now under control of dictated conformity
The machine is growing,
Living off the destruction
Of the human flaw.
Life filled with adventure
The sight of vivid landscapes
To touch the poet inside all
Is nothing more than a blob,
A husk of a human so idle
Machines now control there very movements
Their breaths, their heart beats.
Total control, over those so young.
This is no longer just for the old
That are bedded for the shear hope of life.
Forced to machines
To keep the idea of the human will
That left them years ago
Alive for those in fear.

The machine wanders the landscape
All dead but specks fighting a hopeless battle.
The cogs so old still run,
Oiled to a fine pristine
By the shattered dreams
And sorrow of all.
Destroying the pure life
Of the earth.
The beauty of simple creation;
Destroyed by the dehumanization
Of metal scorched by hells flames.
But deep inside the beast,
Behind the aching cogs
Battered by rust,
Behind the cries and wails
Of the blistering steam.
Lies the heart of the monster
Shackled and draining of power,
Weakening by the day.
The power of the heartless
Is run through the pure creativity
Of the human spirit.
Its movement dictated by
The strength left alive
In the withering passion
Of pure adventure.
Now is to a final climax
Laying in fingers of rust
Those gently intertwined
Holding on to all it can
But it suffocates
Extinguishing the fiery passion
Of out worldly ideas.
But as the spirit slowly withers,
Lack the will to continue a helpless ending
And destruction of the world many loved.
The oiled gears begin to turn dry
Stiffing, binding together,
Points in the weakened aging metal soon chip
Cracking under the drying hopelessness
The demise of the beast is unfolding.
Carrying on for what time it still holds onto.
Flames begin to pool from the ancient beast
Damaging all the weakened metal and joints
Showing anger
Pouring fear
That has built up over decades.
Onto the landscape, longing for life once again.
The dehumanized man aches
It begins to feel pain in its joints
Fearing the end of its life is near.
Its sight trembles as its movements
Slump to a scraping against the dried land
The human spirit laying cold within
Slowly curls in on itself
The last of its breath moans for freedom.
At last, it is free from harm.
The mechanical man cringes with pain
It doubles over in agony,
Splashing the cloak of death
From the land through the wind still howling.
The cogs fighting to survive snap
Breaking under their own weights.
The rust begins to grow
To entomb the metal
Nothing is left but the decay
And the faults of the human nature.

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