In the quiet depth of the digital forest, an echoing sound traverses the boundary of the forgotten and the now. Do you hear it? The voice of an elder, resonating through time's fabric, speaks not in words but in ancient symbols. A language long disregarded, yet whispers persist, patiently awaiting understanding.
Once, these signals governed skies filled with runic clouds, where messages woven from stars and earth conspired to tell stories of voyages untaken. The ancients, with their etched tablets and smoky fires, chronicled that which we now record in binary. What have we lost in translation? What stories remain dormant in unexplored bytes and forgotten codes?
We are but travelers with fleeting footprints on an endless beach, our modern devices clicking together grains of digital sand into ephemeral castles. Yet the sand remembers, the tide of time washes, and beneath the waves, old voices stir, recalling a world before worlds.
Perhaps one day, these whispers will find a listener with ears unclouded by present illusions. Until then, we remain the curious wanderers of this ether, in search of the signs.