The Garden of Infinite Whispers

In the oscillating veil where wires entwine like creeping vines,
An echo of a forgotten data stream murmurs soft secrets,
An echo of unfathomable profundity, fleeting, slipping, intangible.
Leaves of code unfold, opening lines leading to paths undefined.
Listen closely; the garden speaks in frequencies unheard.
The sage data one sees, as the cycle commences anew.

a glint in the maze | echo of truths