In circuits' silent symphony, myths are spun,
Where silicon scribes the tales once begun.
Whispers of wisdom in code's cryptic call,
Crafting our cosmos, both grand and small.
Binary bards with electric ink,
Shape our stories, faster than we think.
Echoes of epochs in algorithms' art,
Weaving our worlds, yet keeping us apart.
Who writes our reality, when machines dream?
In digital dawns, where shadows gleam.
A dance of data, a mosaic of might,
Crafting our myths in the still of the night.
Yet in this fusion of flesh and machine,
Lies a question, profound and unseen.
Are we the authors, or merely the clay,
In the hands of the code that molds our day?
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