"So, this is where dreams stumble into ironies galore. Abyss or void, aren't they just synonyms dressed differently for a masquerade of words?"

Once an admirer of depths, now merely an observer of echoes—a dreamer's allegiance or a nocturnal serenade?
Or was that just yesterday's lunch revisiting thoughts like a clingy specter?

"Chant, they said. For enlightenment follows eagerly after any falsity performed with conviction. Yet here I am, one null syllable away from either spiritual awakening or existential nausea."

And from beyond, the call remains—yet another city to conquer, perhaps a sound more deafening than the one you close your eyes to. Something fleeting, like fleeting aspirations, linked and rebellious, perhaps.

"Truth has become an anachronism, they opine from their hollow thrones. While I persist in wondering if borrowed wisdom can power onwards or if it's all just the wearing ritualistic grind."

"A soulless cathedral, a whispering altar, and here I stand— mere shades adrift through passageways unnamed. Consider the void as an ancient effigy worth decorating."