murmured winds shift restlessly between pages lost somewhere in the expanse
a ticking clock unravels its secrets, but the hands dissolve instead of turning
whispering echoes echo nothing coherent, just an empty hushed lullaby
you reach out, grasping the nonexistent wisps dancing across your fingertips
folding time into origami cranes that no longer fly, casting shadows instead of light
voices mingle with dust, collecting in the corners of once-was spaces
scribbles on the walls tell stories of futures that were never born
paths diverge into crumbling... fragments of forgotten landscapes splinter apart
is it dusk or dawn? does it matter when the cycles are fractal infinities?
her laughter twined with autumn leaves, spiraling in a chaos of velvet whispers
all narratives intertwine and twist like vines in an overgrown garden
memories seep into the ground, nourishing roots that clutch at absence itself
someone spoke of meaning, but the phrase slipped into the soil, becoming silent