The Brass Heart

The brass gears catch the morning light, spinning in their quiet cages of oil and dust. A mechanical heart beats without blood, measuring the slow decay of hours.

Each tooth connects with perfect grace, a silent argument between motion and rest. We watch the pendulum swing, forgetting that it swings for us.

Dust settles on the polished face, a gentle reminder of the unyielding wear. The springs will someday lose their tension, but for now, the ticking fills the room.