The path is littered with absence, echoes of moments wrapped in the gauze of fading light. You look down; where is the road that split unseen?
They say ticks of time unravel the thoughts submerged and unsteady—twisting reflections cast into the mist, vibrating with whispers of forgotten wishes and unexplored futures. Each footprint fading into a whisper
The line between permanence and ephemerality dissolves in a dream where thoughts float inconsequential and yet hard as frozen pillars. A memory of a tear-stained sky shifts restlessly above upon the burden of elusiveness.
Oftentimes awakened is an insatiable hunger—a quest without destination—oh yearning, that pushes gentle flames, lighting the void of what is perceived inevitably familiar and yet wholly removed...
Sudden gleaming clarity unfurls like a serpent coiled in mist—this harmony of chaos swells emotively brushing the skin, holding silence as tightly as unnerving mutation. What would you keep?
Were these mere projections relapsing aside the crescendo of an unblemished horizon calling… only to comprehend that being lost means never truly lacking? Huddled reflections surmount as phantoms dancing, and silently, we breathe.