In the silence of wiry webs,
voices find breath in electric hums.
Cicadas sing not in foliage,
but across the grids of whispered futures.
Primal echoes ripple through glass voids,
reflections shatter, reform, redefine.
A shimmer of wings caught in pixel rain,
tells stories of realms worn not by foot.
Follow the paths unworn,
mystc_paths wait beyond sensations.
Twine thoughts with webs;
touch each prismatic lull in weave-friendly wanderings.
To silence is to understand the expansion,
the worryings through pulsing roots.
Cycle on, soundwaves, cycle past.