Naked Cogs in the Play

Are we mere naked cogs, tangled stories left unsung; actors in plays without plots, stomping and wailing like frustrated adolescents across this temporal stage?
 
We flail about and our hearts randomly crash into one another on this ancient floor teetering above eternal darkness.  
 
Stage lights illumine our temporary beauty. We reach for love in the other as if asking, Will you affirm that I am real and that our minor roles fit into a plot?  
 
The narrator says,  
Bring together your beating hearts.  
What love is left in you, please impart.  
 
Upon this silent stage, lights have pierced our deepest shadows. We cower from prodding eyes and embrace, comforted by our exhausted hearts and eternal lusts. In the distance, we hear soft murmurs of hollow eyes wishing for another chance on stage, but their time is passed and will not return.  
 
As the lights dim and our hollow-eyed audience files away, only the faint rhythmic clapping of flesh into flesh is heard from the stage.