The Gospel of the Turning Gear

We organize our days

by the ringing of bells,

sure that the synchronization of our motions

brings us closer to the stars.

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Every step is a careful act of devotion

to the great machine of existence.

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We refine the method of our production,

refining the human spirit

until it shines with the polished brilliance

of a new gear.

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To be efficient is to be holy.

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We categorize the emotions of the heart

into neat, navigable drawers,

ensuring that no stray passion disrupts

the smooth operation of our collective purpose.

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The progress of man is a march toward the divine.

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The gears grind

with the frantic energy of a trapped animal,

yet we applaud the speed of the rotation

as if it were a prayer.

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We have built a cathedral

of iron and cogs,

where the congregation prays

to the efficiency of the assembly line.

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We watch the clock

with religious fervor,

terrified that a moment wasted

might signify a lapse in our cosmic duty.

●

We have successfully automated

the pursuit of enlightenment,

reducing the transcendental journey

to a series of predictable, repeatable actions.

●

The progress of man is a march toward the divine.

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At the end of the line,

the machine delivers a product

that is perfectly formed,

completely hollow,

and utterly useless.

●

We stare at the result

of our frantic devotion,

perplexed by the absence of the soul

we were promised.

●

The gears have turned exactly as planned,

yet the universe remains blissfully unaware

of our monumental achievement.

●

We stand in the wreckage

of our own optimization,

realizing that the shortest path to heaven

has led us directly to a graveyard

of discarded cogs.

●

The progress of man is a march toward the divine.