The gears of time grind beneath arduous melodies, racing through the moments where clashing notes beckon the machines to dance. Awash in the electric sea of enlightenment, specters of melody flicker like the dying candlelight whispering forgotten dreams.
Consider the clocks that tick without hands and symphonies composed of silence. What if the pauses were filled with echoes of yesterday's longings? Melodies constructed from the scattered, adamant remnants of sound erupt, drenching the air in cascading colors.
Dreams unwound, threads intertwine, forming a tapestry of sound that pulsates—
Echoes of a ticking heart
Chorus of embedded memories
Specters of sound untethered
As the clockwork whispers, who becomes the master—do we command the symphony, or does it dominate us?