Time slips like water through fingers,
the clock unwinds
and in its wake, shadows speak.
01110100 01101000 01100101 00100000 01101101 01101111 01101110 01101001 01110100 01101111 01110010
whispering messages to the lost
encoded in the language of dusk,
a language we once knew.
Gather the fragments,
symbols emerge,
from the haze of memory:
[3:14] || "path" ⊗ {X} ⟅ ϟ
a digital sigil, woven in twilight's loom,
where the codes converge
and the answers lie hidden.
Entrancing, aren't they?
those glimpses that flicker like
a dying star's spark
pressed between pages of forgotten tomes.
Dare you continue seeking?
Or will you pause, entranced by the symphony of pixels, mirrors reflecting what could be?