Alignment with the void, where silence speaks louder than a thousand disheveled words. The lunatic whispers to the stars, do they whisper back?
In the calculus of quietude, there lies a syllogism unproven: If madness sings in hushed tones, and reason is deaf, who hears the echo?
A shadow stretches its fingers toward the sunlit horizon, but the light is a permeable membrane. Touch it, and you fade.