Machinery

Mechanical bits and bobs turning

But the machine is slowly winding down

Until it stops

And then it will just

Sit in the warehouse

(Like the Ark Of The Covenant

In Indiana Jones)

Just sitting there

Gathering dust

Cobwebs will form

Spiders will make homes

In the little alcoves

Between the smallest cogs

The machine is full of nests

Of other lives

But not its own

A machine doesn’t think

Or have a mind

It becomes a host

To little beating hearts

And things that want to live

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