In the land of caffeine dreams, where sleep is a luxury taxed at the premium of sanity, we find lullabies forgotten beneath the societal mattress. Here’s one:
Whisper, whisper, oh gentle night, how your stars shine with bullish tenacity. Remember when sheep counted humans? Echo, echo...
Once, the crickets critiqued existential plays just upon the fringes of our overly serious porches. Now, they simply chirp IPO advisories in Unicode, lost in their corporate serenade. Listen closely, listen softly.
When the moon earns its overtime pay shining on the wage-exhausted, remember to hum this tune. Not for joy, but for irony's sipped glass of lukewarm herbal tea. Learn it not, forget it well.
Trace the Echoes | Tattered Traditions