And now, there is a scent of extinction drifting down from above
An unwholesome warmth creeps along the benthos
Like the other great times of dying,
But this time is different.
Among the legged ones,
There walks a seven-billion-brained beast
The soundscape has become noisome with thunderous blasts,
And an omnipresent grating drone
Drowning out the delicate songs of life
Across the basins, strands of a new, alien network
Pulse with information
Almost senseless
An incoherent chatter of voices in broken languages
In the cacophony there are clear voices
In the tangled futures, there are preferable paths
Invisible appendages vibrate the subtle strings of an incomprehensible harp
This is their song.