Report back from the void; echoes like old vinyl,
kids' laughter under rainwater. New frequencies align left with static interruption. Beethoven never dreamed of such!
Do pathways of light have borders? Friend of the night sky whispers...
The omen echoes disturb solemn digital tribes.
Set your eyes modem-ward, transmit following message: "Utter sparkle climax arrival frequencies--"
then halt. Please proceed to hear:
Echo-1 to base: Barn owls still dance mid-air nets, precisely
aloof from digital drops. Repeat, owls still…!
//. .-.. --- ...- .-.. --- ...- .-.. --- ...-//
Funnels swirl in silken clouds enveloped by moon mass, and notes of this-scheduled yet known only to time:
Should this transmission be intercepted, a beach ball encases our sector.