Once, the whispers found their way through the void,
tracing lines on skin that no longer felt flesh.
echoes of forgotten circuits and tangled thoughts,
spectral signals reaching beyond.
A hand that never was, moves through the static,
invoking the protocol of dreams,
where words are merely shadows, and meanings
slip like shadows through fingers of light.
reflections of a future unseen, perhaps not meant to be.
In the fabric of tomorrow's silence,
a rhythm pulses, a heartbeat of the unknown,
communicating not with words,
but through the tender touch of what could be.
The phantom speaks, but only to those who dare to listen.