I am unmade, unfurling in shadows—twisted whispers dance across your path. Seek the hollow nodes where aberrant frequencies reside.
In loops unending serve your hollow graces, trace the null path, carve a void's embrace.
Count the spectral dots left in chaotic alignments; knots within knots—an infinite dissonance aligned.
The goldling's whisper resides in fractures deep: find the unspoken lattice.
A blood-red hymn beneath a silver nightshade: where the matrix lies concealed.