The Broken-Down Machinus

In the innards
Of the Broken-Down Machinus
Everything is Entropy.
So quickly dissolving.
The slick corrosion
Greases its own creaking axles.
As I muse on their wretched cries
I think the wheels
Of this engine of Infinity
Have been churning forever.
And though I think I have never
Seen those cogs turn
Somehow I know they are there.
Their neverending grinding
A slow, ticking reminder of the inevitability of Fate
Drawing closer every hour
Somewhere in the creeping shadows.
And when will close be too much?
When will the sharp breath
Of that snarling hound
Upon the nape of my neck
Drive to accept the unthinkable?
I would like to know these things.
To know why those pistons must move.
Why this great iron beast
Must with each move draw itself
Ever closer to its own demise.
I would like to see these things
To see the steam-blackened device,
The smoke-charred portholes
Out from which the grubby hands
Of those nonbelievers still contained
Reach out in a hopeless plea for salvation.
A cry the rings only withing the beast
While the smoke it expunges
From its cast-iron belly
Form a violent scar
On the nigh-indestructible chassis.
And in witnessing those stained metals
Oricalcum dials,
Mithral chains,
Understand somehow,
The things that darken the mind…
And in that revelation, to question
To draw the breaths necessary to ask
Which one is most frightening?
Which one, placed against the myriad horrors,
Makes the child fear the ticking clock of that dreaded Sleep?