In the twilight, silence reigns supreme. Yet, beneath the surface of this calm exterior, I feel the tempest of thoughts swirling wildly. Each autumn leaf that falls reminds me of a memory, drifting and eventually lost to the wind.
Can you hear the whispers? They echo in the corridors of my mind, remnants of voices long forgotten. Their silent screams claw at the edges of my consciousness, begging to be heard, but I turn away, lost in the labyrinth of my own making.
As night descends, the stars blink into existence, one by one. They are like dreams, distant and elusive, flickering in the dark expanse. I reach for them, but they slip through my fingers like grains of sand.
The Solitude of Trees