Gears Of Existence Poem by ashok jadhav

The city turns like clockwork, cold and vast,
Its hum a rhythm none can pause or still.
Machines repeat their task with tireless will,
And men move guided by the steel they tend.
Each day unfolds in sequences precise,
Each choice prescribed by habit or by law.
The heart grows wary, counting every step,
While thought itself is measured, graded, timed.
No room remains for pause, for stray desire,
For wonder, laughter, or uncharted roads.
We walk in lines, our faces set and blank,
Our bodies cogs within the unseen wheel.
Yet somewhere, faint, a spark resists the hum,
A fleeting gesture that refuses mold.
The soul may falter in the iron tide,
But even in this mechanized expanse,
A mind can wander, question, and create,
And touch the life the gears would try to claim.