In the chasm of clocks, where gears grind slowly against the intangible dusk, the void whispers secrets of entropy. A resonant echo, like the distant chime of forgotten time, calls forth the soul to ponder its unseen mechanics.
Beyond the clockwork doors of perception lies a theory unwritten, spun from shadows and metal. In its pursuit, one unfurls a tapestry of blackened silk, woven with strings of hollow lead and dreams of brass.
Do you linger in the void, or does the void linger within you, an ever-ticking pendulum of fate alluded yet never comprehended? Listen closely, for the grating of clocks reveals the truth, albeit subtly skewed.
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