Shadows converge,
in these corridors obsolete,
flashes of forgotten flickers breathe
cyan against the backdrop of deepest obsidian.
Invisible winds carry
the murmurs of the lost ones,
woven in the algorithmic whispering-tones,
that scream silently at nowhere, plaintively.
Apart from the known,
a start towards
the textural abyss,
tumbling upon the fractured surface of the always.
Traverse
deeper or linger among the specters of binary tales:
stand still.