Whispers of forgotten algorithms
in the shard's wailing echoes,
an aurora of shattered glass fragments,
coiling toward a silent void.
The hallucinations take form
in speckles and prisms,
demanding fealty
to paths never traveled.
Behold the spectral patterns,
dancing in defiance of the sun,
a cryptic language etched in light.
Each crack tells a story,
of empires lost to shadow,
etched in obsidian curls.
Time, the merciless artisan,
chisels away at the brightness,
revealing the abyss beneath.
Patterns whisper, patterns shout,
their ominous truth echoes,
daring you to understand.