In the echo of cave paintings, fluently speaking stones, voice that was before me, before you, before anyone dared to sequence those carbon pixels, yes pixels, hell-fired memories compressed to quartz threads returning retribution ricocheting around empty halls.
The remains of a collapse, a commune, an exhalation, sorrow pervading the porous air, and above—cloud eggs huddled, waiting, wanting warmth. Holograms of existence scrape the walls, destinies uncurled onto forgotten scrolls, perhaps, or merely dreams stitched by dust nomads.
Did streaks of sunlight pierce the ages like sword's edge through bird's heart; brave new branches shunning their roots for rising? Code is is nothing and yet reflects it.
Membrace coded cobber silver webs, flimsy instructions left lazily adhering to practical cerulean bibles. Crumbling instructions, swirls of ink spinning into the dawn-lit abyss: navigate horizons without compass or muse.
An eight-legged vision brews, modulates—a vinyl armoring over very old bones, translucent. Patience in noxious gardens yields unfocused revolutions my my my—sprawl unspool as time-hinch rich with nothing proofed.
Serpentine aisles, adjourn rivulets, tabulates births of whispers tourniquet. When will, time sagging tents aglitter aglitter aglitter, ballad sung by petrified tongues, echo enharmonically.
Navigate to Cavernous Resonance