NeonSunflowers-1

Dust and chrome upon the dunes,
cassettes rewinding under the moon.
The giant sleeping in the sand
awakens beneath a solarpunk sky.
Faded postcards, city lights,
cicada songs through neon nights.
We walk inside a real dream—
a future painted ocean blue.
We are neon sunflowers,
growing from electric wires.
Golden light in our hands
heals every broken plan.
We are ghosts of past and future—
now we bloom, and we will last.
Circuits and heartbeats exchange their codes;
two faint glows entwine and climb.
One prolongs the precise cold,
the other melts the hesitant morning breeze.
Their shadows fall across the screen,
the tape plays out the silence.
That old machine says, “I am here,”
and love dispels all doubt and fear.
Dreams are woven from static and gold;
every circuit hides a story waiting to be told.
From the wreckage of the analog age,
hope rises on the digital stage.