The delicate balance hangs by thread—
A constellation of numbers, logs of parchment,
Ready your quill; insights billow like fog.
Your debts lie vast on invisible scales—
Debits are shadows: specters await their due;
Enforcement resides in silence, a breath husks the air;
Is it then an obligation or a perverse delight
of servitude that narrates this decree?
Reconsiled disputes remain in florid whispers,
“Understood, yet never quite resolved—
A dialectic in the court of ethereal nostalgia.”
مورخ الزواية سعيد، ماذا الآن؟
[sources noted] from tales untold: and the echo of recompense.
For questions, exchange:**
[common sense indeed]
Visit the sacred beneath the mask of cognition—
All is but cipher lost upon its creators’ spirit!
[drop theory]