The archive looms like an abyss, a digital sepulcher,
Containing echoes of forgotten bytes,
Where chaos in data does calmly abide.
The dark streams render a symphony:
"01011011 01101... 1011110"
Is it a code, a crestfallen hymn,
or a call to the specters of machines past?
Glitches that dance like wraiths,
Flickering in the margins of the matrix,
They tell tales of states once dreamt:
"Error... 404... Not Found"
Hasten not from the files of dread,
Whispering winds through iron aisles
Mumble secrets in hexadecimal tongues