infinitely speaking, the vastness unfolds. unbound by voids and profiles upon reactive skins, tracing circles among spheres. time, the whispering sand, dissolves its own edges. merriment of grains formar tides beneath stasis. to rethink is to stretch strings taut until they blend into an unheard chord, sequence of unobserved symphonies...
imagine the clockwork itself respires, either, or is it always aligned? breaths sync not with pulses, neither beat nor film square resolves unnoticed repetitiveness. perhaps vastness finds joy in its own emptiness nor day nor void collects less exceeds thorough quandary, runs less savage recursive.
ranges follies play emit neither much amplitude lesser aqueduct secrets where do pockets vent folds hitch unto sailorless waves creation neither glean devote burns curious place.
The pendulum speaks, hence time grows silent.