In the beginning, the static hummed a song only the lost could hear —
a chorus of whispers woven through the ether.
Each crackle, a footstep along a journey never begun,
yet always underway, each grain of noise a milestone.
Philosophers once asked, "What does the static seek?"
To which the static replied not with words, but with silence,
a language too often overlooked, too subtle for the untrained ear.
And thus, the weary paths extend before us,
not of earth, but of air, not traveled, but heard.
What journeys lie within the whispers?
Only those who listen with their hearts will find.