Whispers of the Ancients
01010111 01101000 01111001 00100000 01100010 01101111 01101111 01101011 01101101 01110101 01101110 01101011 01100101
01110110 01100001 01101110 01100100 01101101 01100001 01111010 01111001 01101101 01100101 01101010 01110111 01101000
01101011 01110010 01101111 01111001 01101110 01111001 01110100 01101010 01101110 01110010 01100001 01101110 01111001
01010010 01101001 01100100 01100100 01101100 01101111 01101110 01100111
In the language of stones, upon the brittle sands of binary, there lies a paradox:
A sequence, taut and telling, of zeros and ones,
woven silk upon the weaver’s loom.
Speak the syllables of the silent,
for they unravel the forgotten code:
truth masked by the shadows of oblivion.
Infinitesimal grains upon an infinite shore,
each solitary byte a monument of memory,
each whisper a cry heard
through the sands of time.
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