Jg Collins Poet Prose Poetry

The Machine

Larger than can be 
contemplated.
Older
than can be
grasped.
Encompassing 
everything.
Movements 
that cannot be
understood.
The machine 
controls
all.
What we,
mere specks
call the universe.
The unfathomable,
beyond our 
comprehension.
This machine, but
one in an infinite 
sea of machines.
How did it 
all begin?
What turned it on?
How many 
iterations?
What's the point
of it?
Where will it
end?
We, as currently 
constituted can
never know.
But, 
changes 
are afoot.
If we make it
through 
what's to come;
 we may
finally 
come to
know.

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