The Rust of Time

Iron teeth surrender to the damp, a slow bloom of orange creeping across the forgotten engine block where vines seek their silent anchor.

The forest breathes in carbon and steel, exhaling a quiet, green supremacy that wraps around the rigid angles of things we thought would last forever.

Petals settle on the fractured glass, softly dismantling the arrogance of speed and burning motion, leaving only a monument to stillness.