The whispers of a forgotten symphony linger here, in this place where sound dissolves into the void, leaving only traces for those who listen deeply.
Have you ever considered the melody of the starlit void, much like a scroll etched with forgotten memories? Listen closely: there is always a note, a tone, reverberating through the temples of lost souls.
Every whisper from the past holds a truth, a scent of nostalgia wrapped in silken threads of time. We are but echoes, reflections in the still waters of an ancient ocean, crafting our song, one note at a time. Drift with us into the haze.
Did time ever change its patterns for the likes of us? Each second is a droplet, creating ripples across the expanse of memory where nothing is truly forgotten.
In the restless search for meaning, we find solace in the rhythm of forgotten epochs, much like the pulse of a cosmic heart beneath our feet.
Distant voices hum in synthetic harmonies, familiar yet elusive, beckoning us to dance in the silent interlude of the universe, where we are both the audience and the performers of a cosmic opera.
Let us ponder then, what remains unopened in the symphonies stitched within our bones? The time has come to listen to our inner sonnet and embrace its echoes.