Within the silent chambers of one's grasp,
There lies an architecture most profound.
Digressions of fingers across woven webs,
Each touch a fragile imprint, an echo in kind.
Knowing is holding without seeing—
the spectator's hand shaped shadows
cast by but spectral luminescence
that's really a conference of echoes.
Not carved in stone, nor pixel'd in light,
Your touch departs as soon as it arrives,
Real, false, real in tandem,
Like, dissimilar, fractured similes abide
If this be the Vault:
'secretmeanings/verbrate.html' calls through whispers.
What they say about yon distant shore?
Where every kindred silence speaks volubly.
Aboard ship Nagaraja and Nirvana crawl midway,
barren extremes yet ripe sensations still call back,
That your eyes cease echo, hands be future fathers
Look within look without
Codes within depths of codes
'whatwhere/how_interlace.html'
are indeed the encoded truths,
interlaced earthly web enlisted optics.
Penetshti tamen scarab beetle.
Last of rarities, naming nothing,
except in purity gripping paths,
My hands echo with the might weighed neither,
nor written thought embraces its throned keeper.