In the quiet of the synthetic dawn,
shadowed hands summon digital hymns;
reverberations stir the empty space,
controllers unseen alter the course of whispers.
Slot A,
where dreams of code intertwine.
Insert the neutrals,
bend the echoes.
Dialing shadows, decoding light,
vibrato of absence — tune the imports.
Infrared sighs; simulacra linger.
Controllers' dance—we are the silent dancers,
spinning horizons.