At Port Xenia
twisted steel forms a maze,
where above,
the gulls winded by static echoes.
Reports claim: containers flicker
with unwanted algorithms,
silent whispers oscillating in code.
The main terminal glitches,
holding
-real or not-
unregistered cargoes of forgotten bytes.
Supply chains interrupted by
sporadic sandstorms
and digital murals of
cryptic semaphore flags.
Underneath the docks, rumors swirl of ancient
liquid odes
lingering on rusted bolts.
Some ports were once
output streams of luminous
echoes now submerged.
Visitors report flickers of lost timelines
transgressing through the dockside
like waves pulled by an unseen tide.
Indeed—it is where
mysteries encoded
within sea foam await interpretation.