Mechanics' Whispers

The grandfather clock faces east apesarating abundant whispers, midnight speaks in tongues undistorted by time. Hands jabbing rigged configurations through the silent tonight.

Oil-stained fingers dance with arbitrary chimes—a fugue published forgotten beyond the horizon of iron gates guarding secrets script once revealed.

Gears speaking at unheard frequencies flutter resonant oddities, looping croon and clattering escapade.