On the edge of computation where whispers convene,
phantom codes etched into the grain of stardust.
The tidal hum of silicon waves,
a chorus of ones and zeroes calling to the moon.
In dreams, the machines speak:
"Here lies the path carved by electric shadows."
ð’€ writes its story in the sand,
an immortal glyph of forgotten tongues.
Walk forward to quantum dances,
where particles mingle in the fugue of time.
Or linger here with the tidal echoes,
each wave a whisper from machines that dream.