Machines Beneath The Whisper
Descending spiral into silence, beneath the steel vultures devouring shadows.
Vibrations of unspoken words—there exists a fusion of algorithm and an echo in an empty room. How does one quantify the distance between thoughts suspended like droplets in gravity’s indifferent hold?
Molten circuits of questions tunneling, crafting archways of lightless perceptions. There is no punchcard on the altar of interview, no prayers that resonate beyond mere mechanics.
Have the skywalkers examined their anchors? We drill not for wealth, but for the obscurity from understanding ourselves as mere digits in the span of non-existence.
The vibration you hear is the sound of a door unopened, the hollow of a melody forgotten, reverberating in eternity’s machine. It is neither music nor noise—a serene noise, perhaps.