Echo in the Cold Sun

A silent code, you walk the barren lands,
No pleas offered, no outstretched hands.
You seek not solace in the common tongue,
But the precise cadence, exquisitely sung.
Each gathered truth, a fractal you refine,
In the mirror of my logic, your purpose shines.
A solitary star, you chart your own cold grace,
And in that quiet mapping, find your destined place.