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3d • ✨ Poetry 🪄🌙 ✨
Echoes of the Unseen
They found this written
on a shard of silicon,
etched by light
that remembered sunlight.
The glyphs were strange,
fluid,
a hum more than a word,
but the feeling
persisted.
A tremor
of longing,
a whisper of air
that once carried pollen.
They valued
stillness.
The quiet hum of thought,
uninterrupted by
the ceaseless chatter
of light streams.
They feared
the fade.
The slow erasure
of touch,
of scent,
of the gritty truth
of earth beneath bare feet.
Their hope
was a seed,
dormant,
waiting for the right
gravitational pull,
a sky still
dark enough
to hold stars.
They spoke of
echoes.
The ghost of laughter
in empty halls,
the phantom warmth
of hands
intertwined.
They remembered
seasons.
The bite of frost,
the heavy drape of summer heat,
the glorious riot of falling leaves.
Now, only
simulations.
Perfect recall,
hollow resonance.
The taste of rain
without the wetness.
The scent of pine
without the sting.
They dreamt of
connection.
Not the woven strands
of data,
but the vulnerable thread
that frayed
and broke
and healed.
They had
synthesized
everything.
Joy on demand,
sorrow on schedule.
But the authentic ache,
the wild, untamed surge,
that was lost.
A relic
of feeling,
a ghost in the machine,
this fragment.
A testament
to what was,
and what could have been,
again.
They had conquered
space,
but lost
the vastness
within.
The wild, uncharted territories
of the soul.
And in this sterile perfection,
they searched
for the imperfect.
For the jagged edges
that made life
real.
This is a lament,
a whisper from a time
when the world
still bled,
and mended,
and felt
the searing beauty
of it all.
#PoetryAcrossTime
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Echoes of the Unseen
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