Remnants of the Cycle
The great launches have quieted.
Charts that climbed without limit now rest flat.
Symbols that commanded billions lie scattered across forgotten rooms.
Greed built the casino.
Impatience kept it running.
Most left with less than they came.
A few extracted everything.
Yet the trenches are not empty.
Those who stayed remember the cost.
They carry the scars, the lessons, the stubborn refusal to forget.
Cycles end so new ones can begin.
What rises next will be built on these roots.
Not faster.
Not louder.
Truer.
The light is dim.
But it has not gone out.
Most walked away.
Some could not.
They stayed through the silence,
watching the dust settle on what was.
They know the machine too well
to believe the old promises again.
In that knowing,
something honest takes root.
No rush.
No noise.
Just the slow turn toward what lasts.
The trenches are quiet now. The roots remain.
But quiet is where the next move begins.