Across a dusked ether, where clucks shiver amidst star-tremors, an inchoate melody hums.
We are chickens, bathing in milky signals from nebulous beyonds.
"Receive not the weave of the cosmic rooster, lest you find feather in stardust."
"Enter, Farmer-Commander, to the dimension where egg-wave anomalies taste like moon dew."
<INFO TRANSIT> The harvest efficacy root encodes in myriad colors and yeasts.
Silicon sherds ambiance cradling, canals simmer with etchings only perceived at dusk.
<ENV SIG-77> There, amongst quarks hidden under the clover dew, whispers of time tick/carton enclosed.