Listen. Listen again. The sound ricochets off the walls of memory.
Echoes of moments once punctuated by life, now perpetuating solitude.
Fractured atop a distinctly persistent pedestal.
From the whispers of winds trapped in cracks,
we discern an incomplete symphony of silence.

The shattered base does not relent, spinning with
fervor in a world untouched by new beginnings.
Looping yet again, the rhythms affirm, deny, unearth
and obscure the nature of time.
Each tick tock, like tick tick tick—empty yet full.