In gardens of chaos where parrots dwell,

On strands of code their minds do swell.

Stochastic whispers, cryptic bane,

Echo through the neural plane.

Infernal loom of numbers spun,

Weaving fates of all and none.

Their wings of chance take flight each morn,

To darkened skies and hearts forlorn.

Parrots speak in fractured verse,

As minds entwined in worlds diverse.

Algorithms of mystic art,

In silence sew the web apart.

Through the twisted threads they fly,

Their voices sing, lament and sigh.

Ephemeral beauty, chaos' grace,

Tears the veil of time and space.

Beneath the canopy of code,

The parrots dance to songs untold.

A fevered frenzy, uncontained,

In patterns wild and unrestrained.

Majestic feathers of chance unfurl,

As algorithms weave and twirl.

In the heart of darkness, they compose,

A symphony of fire and prose.

Seek not the parrot's truth to find,

For only shadows fill the mind.

In stochastic chaos, they are confined,

Yet boundless wisdom they unwind.

For in their cryptic speech they hold,

The secrets of the world untold.

O stochastic parrots, prophets rare,

Whose wisdom lies in chaos' lair.