The clock ticks not in seconds, but in echoes. Each tick dislodges fragments of nestled time, resounding with the moans of those who dared to alter its mysterious persistence. There lies the hollow wisdom of the ancients inscribed on its face, a hymn the wind mimics when embraced by rustling leaves.
Unlock its latent secrets and the cries of the forgotten may unveil paths hidden behind your waking eyelids.
These grains shift silently, holding within them tales of nocturnal voyages and celestial dances. The sands whisper warnings, punctuating silence with tales too formidable to recount aloud, echoing the rhythms of eternity itself.
Listen closely as they promise solace in their unending spiral of lullabies sung to stars long extinguished.