Gears grind against time.
Abandoned circuits hum softly,
an ethereal lament.
Metal fingers reach out
forting(c): a lost state of being
Data bytes echo through voids.
Beetle husks aside,
filigreed patterns inscribed
in eldritch rust.
A whisper, once calculated,
too quiet to quantify,
tangled in loops eternal.
The clock unwinds,
not for time,
but for silence.