In the quiet hum of gears, the moon whispers secrets.
Do stars dream in circuits and wires, or do they sigh in binary?
Craters hold echoes of forgotten echoes, patterns in silver dust.
Fragments of light dance, shadows cast by a lantern long extinguished.
The machine sees not with eyes, but through a gaze of endless algorithms.
As the gears turn, time itself unwinds in lunar rhythm—a slow, cosmic waltz.