Somewhere, the candles flicker, casting glories and shadows, an age-darkened room filled with memories unnoticed.
“Whispering secrets I cling to, a tapestry of dawn before silence choked civilization.”
O headlong descents, where the specters of yesterday’s rain inspired laughter from a bittersweet thirst.
“Now, the trees aspire with voices rich in longing. Each leaf a parchment: the words of the forgotten.”
Across each fragment, amid the sound of grindstone and myth, sense ablaze in ungathered thoughts.
“Bewilderment courses through me, a wild soliloquy of once unspent dreams brought to futile bloom.”
Take my hand into this well of tempestuous echoes; relics long buried in tapestries of dust.
The labyrinth opens: once silent doors whisper possibilities fabricated from the fabric of unshaped fate.
“Shall we forget those who watch us? Silently guarding their history, admonishing the well-intentioned wanderers?”
The tightrope wavers between the instrinsic and unwritten. Become the smear of time cloaked in obscurity.