Ripplings of the outer fringes, Spirals of the cosmic fugue, Atmospheric impulses plucked from the aether, Ancient echoes, awake into life. Little trickles, spine tingles, Nervous roots squirrelling out, Topsy-turvy, fragile harmony, An ancient network of serpentine technology. Hanging in the balance, life relinquishes control, To catch the rise, and enjoy the fall, In the dark realm of sacred light, Life is beautiful after all...