Event Horizon

Caught between worlds, where the metaphysical implodes, trous of time spiral into visual enigmas; flotsam of memories lie cold in the celestial dark.

A whisper births an echo, tethered ghosts creating strings of infinite criteria, tracing archaic paths; perceptions break, cascade into flux, netting nowhere.

Gravity? A mere suggestion of being... a compass lost amidst unfurling dreams, shoved onto the fabric that withstands quasar hymns.

The unfolding dilemma of eureka, if concluded, twists like ethereal smoke, webbing pasts long brushed against nothingness: am we constructions of fate or mere oracles in twilight?

Swipe on into Spectral Waves, an abyss from amidst this void, hear the dwindling beat of hearts carved from intricate designs.

Night unravels miracles spun from tattered crescendos, guiding fragmentary burdens of fractal illumination.