Whispers through the machinery of forgotten clocks,
**speak the unsung verses**, dancing in corners
where time holds its breath, waiting...
for the tremor of pulse and still.
Bridges of thought lay submerged
in tides of **ephemeral hues** —
moments rippling with the song of the **oscillator**.
Bask in kaleidoscopic prophecies, whisper,
touch the boundaries of the **unknown**.
And when shadows start to play tricks,
remember, the dance **is** the unfolding
that exists beyond the horizon,
where reality bends, a soft sigh of creation.