Cogs

[deep fern]

If my mind was a cog,
then my heart a machine.

I know nothing
of its mechanical advantage,
only that it’s run
far too long.

A rusty relic,
a placeholder in time,
too old to be needed,
too young to be missed.

Designed for courtyards
and handwritten vows,
a relic of tender machinery
in an era of steel speed.

I fear the screws grow loose,
that one day
it’ll break apart,

splinter into increments
of a forgotten dream,
lost to time.
And somewhere,
a new machine would awaken.

Sleek, adorned,
its name a melody,
while mine silent.

Isn’t that a pity?

[undone gust]

i love love poems that relate the human experience to machinery and robots !! the imagery in this is lovely, especially "its name a melody, while mine silent". i do want to ask what your intention is behind the new machine awakening?

[deep fern]

Thank you so much, that means a lot!

I think this was my take on how easily the world moves on, ig?

Even as my own heart (machine) rusts and breaks apart (The ending of a belief system, in this case, my idea of traditional love) and eventually fades away, somewhere out there a new, sleeker machine wakes up, ready to take my place. (New ideas and belief systems will always be born and rise forward, just as humans are)

It’s about quiet replacement, how tender things get forgotten and replaced by something shinier, and life doesn’t pause to grieve.

[undone gust]

that makes sense, the sentiment really resonates😔 makes you think about how the concept of love has changed so much, and how we ourselves replaced old traditions and now it's our turn to be replaced..