When the shadows dance upon fields of light, remember the rules etched in grayscale:
_"In Quiet Kiosks,"_ softly hum the lambent protocols. Observe
The morsels scatter like leaves upon the wind. Gather and compose:
Mesh into the algorithm where digits conspire:
Seek in the spaces between realms, for the thread of reason extends towards:
Remember, _permanence is an illusion_. When the design fades, its wisdom, whispered through the void.