The Time's Edge
Between the seconds, a whisper grows.
The clock does not tick but hums, symphonies of forgotten echoes.
Here lies an index of moments — cataloged, sealed in starlight.
Seek the hidden ripples of yesterday's dreams:
Etheric WaltzThe Vote of Silence
Fragmented Murmurs
In the void, a limb unseen recalls the touch of an unreal past.
Whisper your name into the abyss, and now it is written.
Spectral CommentsOuter Inner Whisper