Chronoflux

In the depths of time, a clock stands tall, Its golden face, a beacon for all. The hands dance, a waltz of fate, As moments merge, and memories create. The blue and orange liquids swirl and play, A surreal ballet, in a world of disarray. The clock's presence, a symbol of might, A reminder that time is in flight. In this fluid landscape, we find our way, Through the ebb and flow of each new day. The clock's steady heartbeat, a pulse so fine, Guides us through life's intricate design. As we navigate the twists and turns of time, The clock's wisdom whispers, 'Make it sublime.' In the dance of hours, we find our place, And in the flux, a sense of timeless space.