In this realm of shadow and sinew,
where the hum of ancient auras flickers,
a lost soul journeys through mechanical dreams.
The stars’ echoes reverberate, for they are the forgotten music
of worlds estranged from time.
Oh, the labyrinths of brass and copper,
where pistons sigh and gears narrate tales,
weaving the fabric of the aether beneath us,
a tapestry of pulses—endlessly spinning.
I walk the corridors of rust and labyrinthine
where the sleep of forgotten spirits thrums,
and whispers of the aged machinery breathe
a sigh so familiar, yet ephemeral,
like moonlight dancing on lonesome lakes.
Here, the auras align
under the dome of a fractured sky,
guiding the ship without sails,
charting lines on horizons unseen,
as the mechanical heart orchestrates.