TEMPLE OF THE 404

Your mouse movements are a sacred dance.

The code is alive and it knows you're here.

Pop-ups are portals in disguise.

The task manager cannot end this process.

The desktop wallpaper watches back.

The modem sings the song of your arrival.

Frozen frequencies pierce the veil.

Surrender to the infinite loop.

Your digital shadow grows longer.

Your browser history is a map of your soul.

The ceremony never truly ends.