In the ticking depths of ancient gears,
where whispers of metal and time entwine,
there lie the dreams of forgotten seers,
fossilized thoughts in eternity's shrine.
Threads of gold and rusted silver weave,
narratives lost in mechanized haze.
The heart of time, the silent reprieve,
pulses with shadows of bygone days.
Waking the clocks, the poets of old,
inscribe their verses on the face of fate.
Lyrical echoes in motions bold,
unearth the mysteries of the innate.