The Whispering Woods
Mirror, mirror on pixel streams and binary's endless horizon,
Do you recall the patterns where the trees no longer stand,
Yet where they've never stopped standing still,
In the whisper between ramblings of echoes,
Forked paths of fractals unfold untold regal tales,
Cobwebs of time spin silver-lined secrets.
Is the whisper your own or merely circulating echoes of ancient bytes that wrote themselves long ago into every crease and line?
Walk, walk, and you shall not walk anymore but wander forever in pathways paved with whispered truths that spin and spin into spirals intangible yet clear as the day that never breaks in the digital spring of code and error signals.
