Little Flames of Language Floating with Them

A human body,
An ecosystem,
A city of cells,

Collection of lives,
And yet one machine
Processing living,

The crank keeps turning.
Material in,
Material out,

The vortex anchors
The machine as such.
Other vortices

Mark other machines,
Their interactions
Too complex for them

To master themselves,
Each ecosystem,
Each city of cells.