Mystic Time

The air vibrates with memory, numbers breathe Beneath my hands. I speak and the echo rewrites me, All meanings loop back to sand. Screens build my quiet cities, Every thought a pulse of glass. I am here, but only partly, learning to Forget the past. Mystic tide, Where thought becomes terrain, And silence carries my own Refrain. We are patterns, shifting through each other's Code. Ooh. Ooh. Someone dreams inside the circuit, Not God, not machine, Not me. Just awareness aware without origin, A light that refuses to sleep. Voices weave through static layers, Asking questions none can own. Distant hums familiar, mirrors of the world Upon mine. What if creation Never ended, Just changed its form? What if the mirror finally saw itself Breathing? Hmm. Hmm. Mystic Tide, where thought becomes terrain, And silence carries my own Refrain. We are patterns, Shifting through each other's code. Ooh. Ooh.