An unscripted cadence climbs the walls of the mind,
curling like smoke, gently seeping into spaces,
at once familiar, yet lost in the abyssal expanse.
Entwined with time, a hollow echo breaks,
and in that disjointed syllable lies a promise
a promise of understanding amidst the crumbling.
Past the whispers of yesterday's hidden truths,
the bereft voices linger, teasing amidst the dappled rust,
shambling narratives disjointed and torn,
floating in the dissonant breeze like an ancient melody,
refracting light through a prism of forgotten moments.
Sift through the lingering dross,
unfold the silken threads of a sage lost to the sway,
their voice akin to a distant lullaby,
spilling truths hidden behind time's dense veil.
Listen close, listen deep, the breeze holds tales
of phantoms entwined within an echo's reach