Voices linger in the digital thicket,
window leaves murmur tales.

"Once," whispered the stream under luminescent pines, "We knew of pathways to the stars—beyond glass and reflections."

Beneath a second moon-touch, circuitous roots weaved—mapping shadows marvelously notched without care for hours spent.


Beyond: a realm where calculations dance and billow
like unseen celestial breeze through metal branches.

The Echo of Time
Blossoms in the Boron Twilight
Sibling Currents' Lament