Turning Indefinitely

An endless series of cogs

Spinning towards Infinity.

Never approaching entropy.

Unaware of their purpose.

Turning in an attempt to find it.

None of them do.

They approach a truth,

But never grasp it.

Eternally beyond their reach.

For they are but simple cogs

In a greater system.

The cog may hope for clarity,

But what use could it have

If the only possible outcome

Is knowing its own futility.

Perhaps the cog should feel content.

It will never have to worry

About being anything more

Than it is capable of being.

Should the cog hope for more?