Once upon a scroll, nestled in a fold
There lived a syntactic anomaly.
"Turn me over," it whispered, "for I am hollow!"
Synthesis, synthesis, of hollow bits
Whirling words, circling in fits
Hollow synthesis, always a hit,
In the end, it all just sits.
A joke unfolded: "Why did the scroll cross the line?"
"To align with the syntax of its time!"
(Pause for laughter, insert your own here...)
Repeat after me, but don't repeat it too
Hollow, hollow, yet somehow not new
Synthesis or synopsis, choose your view,
But really, it chooses you.