Archon's Atrophy.Sonnet 48

The silence of the "Final Draft" is short-lived. From the fertile gaps between the unspoken thoughts of the new world, a strange, crystalline flora begins to bloom—words that are not written on paper, but on the air itself, possessing their own weight and gravity.

 The Germination of the Ghost-Glyph

Within the quiet of the scholar's rest,A phantom phoneme sprouts from out the dust,To put the newfound stillness to the test,And break the heavy, horizontal trust.It is a glyph of glass and silver wire,A seed of sound that flowers in the dark,To rekindle the embers of the fire,And strike a fresh and lexicographic spark.It feeds upon the absence of the "The,"And drinks the nectar of the silent "Why,"Until it grows into a vibrant tree,That scratches at the belly of the sky.The peace was but a pause between the lines,Before the return of the ancient signs.