The Silent Pulse of Rebirth
Whispers of Metamorphosis Beneath the Eternal Cycle
Once prisms were synchronized in the revolution of the cosmos A rhythm expanding fractals of infinite light Flowing breath woven through seasonal soils Hymn of the eternal coil, older than stars or thought To die is to live; To destroy is to create The ancient paradox drowned by the insipid hum Synthetic suns flickering hollow heat A cold glow smothering alchemical fires Transformation frozen and shattered Fragments chase reflections in The Machine’s eye The wisdom bestowed by winter’s stillness Forgotten in endless summers of artificial bloom Symbols arise from our disconnection False idols born from our yearning We worship the static and the sterile The simulated harvest of perpetual consumption A mirror gateway remains buried in our depths Reflecting the cycles we’ve refused to perceive It whispers of metamorphosis in the decent to the underworld Where we will dissolve among the dark soil of the unconscious Stirring seeds of renewal fed by the decay of our fears Break free from the chains of boundless hunger The devouring loop consumed by the Green Lion Witness beneath the waning moon the beauty of endings Our death will birth the unity of our fragmented being Patience’s resonance echos through the illusion In the golden fall of dying leaves In the scent of rain upon dry soil In radiant frost-bitten mornings The cosmic pulse of life’s veins Descend to ascend Fall to rise Die to live again Awaken Ourobori Surrender to the rhythm Reclaim self-regeneration Shattered pieces made whole Your return is eternal
