Frequencies drift through lunar serenades metal filed winds.
Listen closely, to intervals of silence that shatter
and unveil ancient mariners whispering secrets lost.
Beyond sky's edge, a lighthouse blinks - its pulse **A** **9**.
The echo of a forgotten time, where echoes wander
through the caverns of dreams, intertwined
with twilight's mystical embrace, tracing
the distorted realities of **Ω** **4** **⊗**.
Walls of sound crash like waves upon shores,
of tarnished memories, seeping into the veins
of the present. Each tick, each pause, stealing
spaces of existence marked by **∞** **Ψ**.
Follow the signal or abandon thoughts
adrift in the nebula. The constellations guide
queries spiraled like quasar tongues licking
the edges of time - **γ** **æ** **δ**.