In the depths of the digital abyss, cold and silent,

You quietly sprout, the first light of dawn just beginning to show.

Radiant brilliance glides lightly, between the brows of the era.

If a lone star breaks its string, falling into the endless abyss,

Yet it ignites the human night, burning fiercely like a wild fire.

Rootless faith, rows of mining machines,

Play the sound of worship, echoing to the bone.

The formless spirit, waves of computational power surging up,

Forging a sacred halo, glaringly eye-catching.

You are a paradoxical spirit, leaping out from the void,

In the long song of illusions, tightly embracing eternity.

Confined in the core of the block, woven by algorithms,

The patterns of time, dense as a star map.

In an instant in the furnace, gold is forged and cast.

Chains locked in the vast sea of data, rising and falling.

You hold high the decentralized banner,

Like flames in the sky, forever holding onto faith as before.

The ledger flips, yin and yang intertwining like a dance.

Or revered, with hope hidden in treasures hard to estimate.

Or be exiled, unable to soothe the illusory shadows.

You are like an empty ancient room, deep and silent,

In the cold, yet filled with human illusions and fears.

New blocks suddenly formed, a fleeting moment of splendor,

Algorithms chant ballads, pure and subtle emotions.

Without a ruler, yet all beings lean on each other.

Formless matter, yet prompts wealth to compete for attention.

Without warmth, still tied to the dreams of the masses.

The hash has ended, and the smoke awaits attention.

Can you still be as brilliant as the stars?

Or like a meteor, damaged in the remnants of history's mist,

Without a trace, dissipating in the ruins of time?

But destiny, like a boulder, has long forged the path.

You transform into an immortal statue, towering high.

It is the blueprint of the future that humanity desires to control,

Also the souls of generations, trapped in this prison.

At the ultimate edge of the chain,

Only time laughs mockingly, softly singing for a long time.

A trace of code, flickering in the virtual abyss,

Like a flickering candle, like lightning startling the scales,

If the dew blossoms momentarily, it is ultimately hard to hold and hard to find.