Suspended Currents

The current drummed with a soundless rhythm, as if whispered by forgotten gears weaving patterns beneath transient membranes of existence.

Here aloof, an automated tide looped over itself; liquid echoes in metal void, crashing onto shores of binary sand.

Even the moon, a cog in celestial clockworks; indifferent to the tides it strokes with its pale, steel fingers.

Stand and watch the mechanical current, replicate unto itself eternally invisible, rewriting forgotten landscapes etched in rust.