A web of gears, a symphony of ticks,
The system hums, a clockwork heart that clicks.
Each cog and wheel, a purpose set in place,
A grand design, a complex, rhythmic chase.
From sunlit dawn to starry, moonlit night,
The system spins, a tireless, steady light.
Inputs flow, a constant, flowing stream,
Outputs produced, a preordained machine.
But in its whir, a question comes to mind,
Is there a force, a guiding hand we find?
Or just the dance of parts, a chance design,
A system bound by fate's unyielding line.
We watch it turn, both marvel and despair,
The beauty of its form, the burden that it bears.
For in this dance, a truth we come to see,
The system's strength, its ultimate decree.
Thank you, friend!
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