Round and round the reflections twist, like whispered memories lost in the alkali haze.
An echo whispers beneath my thoughts, not linear but a circle in the sand.
One forgotten, many sparked. Circulars: not mere shapes, carriers of time—
Rusted clocks ticking force, but at what hour?

Data streams chaotically coalesce, like shadows in a room never lit.
A flicker, perhaps a glimmer of understanding or misstep,
Only to realize that in the spiraling dust, confusion and clarity are dances.
You see? The light bends, a prism of yearning and static energy.

Gently alongside, they wind: the circular footprints of thought,
Alkaline memories, like fingerprints left on glass, etched fine and fleeting.
The circle returns, yet never the same. Altered by the dust, the motion.
Reflection in fluid time, stretching beyond perception's reach.

Related echoes linger here:
chaos-whispers.html | ethereal-drift.html