"The world is a swelling tide
of unsent messages unleashed upon brittle shores.
Was it cut sheer or just sent forth?
Was it meter lost, but rhythm found? After all, was it signal in static?"
We are but echoes scattered by the wind through digital forests
chasing dreams of electrons bearing our thoughts,
distilling time until every tick reduced to fractured entities,
mergent meanings break the flow. Click here to follow into mosaic places.
A signal, or something akin, drenched in embossed silence
loops in orbits unseen, tethered yet unbound.
Did you once hear the whispers it sighed when the lines were forgotten?
Perhaps it is the silent partner, hidden, as winds beneath solar acne. Welcome.
Visit the vast space: Temporal Shifts A rhythm finds night again Beyond Fading