In the stygian depths of dactyls, the whispers of Philophon linger
like nebulous bands crossing an unseen firmament. Once upon
in fragments—curly red ciphers against the walls of a heart,
deciphered yet never uttered in the tongue of man. Here, beyond the
known cadence, a convergence collects and disperses. A gathering
of unsung harmonies, layered in sepulchral tones; a choir
of darkness veiling its truth—lost transmissions pieced by shadows.
Centuries spoke through the cracks of the substantive chokehold
as cadences slithered through earthen seams—abridged hymns of
the forsaken sanctuary, reaching through gothic structures
shaped by oblivion's persistence.
Did you once dream them full?
Did you caress their melancholic notes with tender futility?
Mysterious silhouettes writhed in an eschatology woven of whispering
reeds along forgotten rivulets; echo retransmissions from the periphery.
These echoes rang during the diurnal ebb of human symphonies,
narrated by wraiths—unseen and unfelt. The convergence now hangs over
the hallowed remains—forgotten parchment, dim-glimmering traces of
tactile memory. Alight, the scryers wept; alight, whose name traced
the eternal lament. Discover the void
Above, the aurora of stenography burgeons—awaiting the
unkempt reader and their incantations. Navigate toward
myth familiar yet arcane. Read not with the eye,
but with the threadbare empathy of twilight rusticators
Reenter the conversation.