In the lonesome depths where echoes resonate, jeering specters of antiquity flicker in the half-light. Shadows whisper truths bound in iron and velvet, remnants of sorrow sewn into tapestries of time.
"What avarice sways the heart beneath the weight of the world?"
Echoes of the past claw at the veils of the present, pulling memories like strings worn threadbare. The moon bears witness, hung like a sorrowful eye above the ruins of dreamt steadiness.
Collect the withered pages of untruth, scattered among the debris—a grim relic of the enthusiasm once vivid, now cloaked in despair. Each fragment pulsates with a life long extinguished, yet strong as the current that winds through hollowed veins.
Silent facades harbor secrets; naught but gray harbingers of anguish push forward their inscriptions on the mind's mold. To gaze upon them, is to flirt with madness, undulating beneath an ephemeral veil of darker judgments—
Look! An invitation: “Will you delve deeper?”