I sought a page, a truth, a thread,
But all I found was "404" instead.
No words, no links, just empty air,
A void where meaning should be there.
A name was typed, a hope was cast,
But all creation scrolled right past.
No site, no sound, no light, no plan—
Just proof how thin existence ran.
A server dreams what might have been,
But wakes to static, lost within.
So if you search, be not dismayed—
Some things exist to fade away.
No files to load,
No code to parse,
Just endless space
And blinking stars.
A name was typed,
A wish was sent,
But silence is
The firmament.
No buttons flash,
No forms to fill—
Just vacant thought
And standing still.
They bought the name, they staked the claim,
But built no house, lit up no flame.
A vacant plot in cyberspace—
No welcome sign, no trace, no face.
No stylesheet loads, no script runs wild,
No cookies track the dreamer's file.
Just error codes and dead-end light,
A monument to digital night.
And yet you came, and here you stand,
With empty mouse and reaching hand.
Perhaps it's not a broken thread—
Perhaps this page is truth instead.