In the silent hours, when the veil between reality and dreams is thin, lie the remnants of what could have been. Shadows of unspoken thoughts linger in the twilight, their outlines blurred, narratives unfinished.
Reflect on the paths not taken, where the dusk of forgotten dreams rests like a gentle mist. Each step forward was a choice, each choice an echo of the possibilities left behind.
Here, in the gentle embrace of potential energy, time itself holds its breath, waiting for the flicker of intention to transform dreams into matter, into action, into being.