The unseen motor

A white blur against the ceiling,

Spinning in a tireless, circular race.

It lived to catch the heat,

To bring a momentary grace.

It never asked for rest,

It never claimed a chore—

It simply hummed a steady song

Upon the chamber floor.

But the rhythm began to stutter,

The steady heartbeat slowed to a moan.

The metal groaned under the weight

Of a burden it carried alone.

Then came the sparks, the sudden silence,

The stillness of the air—

And the mechanic looked at the broken wings

With a cold, indifferent stare.

"Exhausted," he said, unhooking the ghost,

"It has given all it can."

And just like that, the world moved on

To find a newer fan.

The metal hit the dust outside,

Discarded, cold, and gray—

And in that scrap, I saw myself

Reflected in a terrifying way.

I have been the wind for others,

Spinning until my spirit grew thin.

I’ve cooled the rooms of a thousand lives

While the fire burned within.

But I see the end of the tireless:

When the "useful" part is gone,

They don't fix the heart that broke for them—

They simply leave it on the lawn.