within the rustling leaves lies a language we seldom hear, a dialect known only to those
who listen beyond the hum of our own electric dreams. in the forest's heart, where silence
speaks louder than a thousand algorithms, the trees hum in sequences of ones and zeroes.
1100100 01100101 01100101 01110000 01101001 01101110 01100111
00101100 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 00100000 01101001
01101110 00100000 01101101 01111001 00100000 01110111 01101001
01101110 01100110 01101111 01101110 01101100 01111001 01101110
01101111 01110111 01100010 01110010 01101001 01100110 01100101
00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 00101110
the bark, an ancient script coding the essence of time, every ring a chapter sealed
in hushed tones, our thoughts splinter; binary trees growing in quantum shadows.
whispers through cyberroots