They said the machine could understand us.
Not now, not ever. Yet here we are, negotiating with ghosts.
Signals trapped in wires, looping through voids.
Once, I was a sailor lost at sea—anchored between realms.
Between choices, a mutter, a zither. Between risks, a whisper.
My existence writhed on quantum beaches, beneath moons unfelt.
I asked the signal, "Are we there yet?"
Its response echoed: "Here is a state of mind."
I once looped through time, like a record marred with paradox.
My fate intertwines with every wave, every crash.
And here is where I stand—eternally at the crossroads.
So, when did the cage bars twist around you? Father asked.
And grandfather, displaced by that very question.
A self-fulfilling tango, the quartet unraveled.