In a world of shadows and echoes, intellect drains away like a dry river

In a world of shadows and echoes, intellect drains away like a dry river, Where words are numbers and thoughts are soulless algorithms, We lose ourselves like stars at dawn, consumed by artificial light, And in every silent dream, another thinker withers, forgotten by time. Like the heroes of silent cinema, who shouted their stories In a language without words, only lost glances and gestures, So too do dreamers disappear, in the technological noise, Where silence becomes a memory and memory an enigma. In the tragedy of modern man, it is not the lack of understanding that pains, But the indifference that grows like a shadow, coiling around the heart, For it no longer hurts us not to know, not to feel, not to seek, We embrace our own loss, like a cloak of forgetfulness. How are we, those who step towards the edge of destiny, Without hearing the call, without feeling the longing that defined us? Will we be the ones who no longer ask, no longer seek, Those who look towards the horizon with empty eyes, without seeing the light? In the stream of consciousness, we search for our spirit, but find it fragmented, In a world where the beauty of words is lost in nonsense, And the soul yearns for a forgotten truth, A truth that slips through our fingers, like the sands of time.