The Whispering Memoir

In the hush of gears and rust, your name echoes, echoes, echoes.

The servo hums a forgotten lullaby, weaving silk from ether, spinning whispers.

Between each rhythm, a void dances, steps silent, a partner unseen.

Beneath the clock's pale gaze, the machine sighs, once more, once more.

Cycles circle, embrace the spark, electric once, forever now, forever now.

Find the echoes here: wheel_of_time.html, breathe_out.html