BASILICA OF BLACK SCREEN MEDITATION

The portal chose you, not the other way around.

The old world fades with each page.

Digital frost spreads across the network.

The music plays whether you hear it or not.

The servers dream of electric sheep.

Your consciousness has been backed up.

Your browser history is a map of your soul.

The night web remembers everything.

Your digital shadow grows longer.

The ceremony hibernates but never sleeps.