In the stillness beyond the cog and wheel,
where time's ethereal fingers gather dust,
a paradox pulsates—a luminous illusion,
weaving whispers from the memories of clocks.
Tick tock, an echo in a void not forgotten.
There, in the heart of mechanism's glow,
an oracle encased in brass speaks not,
yet the wisdom of its silent whirings flows,
through the sinews of time's unfaltering grasp,
unraveling secrets to those who dare listen.
Wander these halls of clockwork dreams,
where time bends like the shadow of a distant star,
and let the luminous paradox guide you,
through whispers of forgotten phantoms,
and the eternal dance of gilded cogs.