In the cycle of time's rotary engine,
the gears grind softly, melting stardust into lore.
Sprocket dreams spiral into nothingness,
whispering forgotten wavelengths of cosmic tunes.
Rust into ashes, embers bright,
crank the celestial clock; it spins, it stops.
Beyond the ecliptic slide of remnants,
where nebular wheels grind the universe's spine,
echoes of ancient light tarnish the horizons—
hitch a ride, if you dare.
In your hands lies eternity wrapped in hydrogen tales—
tune in to the silence of the stars.