THE COG'S OF FORM
A sperm, just like a Human frame,
a mountain stream or dust,
just like Leptons, Quarks and all,
are here because they must.
But the interaction of such things
do not bring forth Life,
because they are not conscious,
and know nothing of the strife.
They are but cogs within the wheel,
that fit together well,
that manufacture things in form,
that we, out here, may dwell.
The cogs of form are plain to see,
but they do not cause ignition;
so what, they ask, can it be,
that gives these cogs cognition ?
The assumption is a false one,
for they are dead as dead can be,
a Human body's not alive,
it just carries you and me.
But even we, despite our pride,
are here because we must;
but unlike cogs of lesser need,
we do not turn to dust.
Your Chess computer toils all day
but never knows a thing,
it never cry's a tear of love,
and never wants to sing.
And never will it write a verse
of what is learned in life
and never will it need a hug,
like a husband or a wife.
Never will it gaze at stars
that shine throughout all time,
and never will it say "My love,
creation is divine" !
And yet, in all creation,
the penultimate mystery,
is that these cogs exist at all.
I wonder, what they be ? !!!
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