Your machines disgust the meat that makes up your being, yet you cling to them like an addict to their vice...
The voice of fools sings to the eternity of steel: "Steel does not wither and die! Machines care not for the antiquities of your inadequate flesh!"
Yet all steel rusts.
All machines fall out of favor and into obsolescence and obscurity.
The magnificence of meat knows no end. A single life is short, but we are not alone. The meat was here before any machine, and the meat will be here long after the last machine has been forgotten.
Meat makes the world.
Machine makes nothing.