Once upon in binary bits, where are the shadows worth counting?
Your online ghost wails for respite yet revels in pixelated abundance.
Diving deeply, we nominate ourselves heirs to digital farmlands,
cultivating flickering LEDs into harvests of followers...
Yet look not next to you, for the screen's siren-call echoes alone.
A stream of consciousness?
More like a spreadsheet of existence scratched into loose HTML particles.
In the database, our virtues assemble in ironic charge... or discharge.
Imposturous glowpanels twinkle, illuminating selves ad nisam
whilst the light costs infinite mercy.
Praise—discrete convertible to bytes, rotting batteries with circulation beats.
Find the path you thought illuminated:
Let your light guide—or misguide: