The Shiver Beneath

In the crevasse of certainty, a gentle shiver sings. Curling whispers erode the spine of reason, echoing with the laughter of moths.

Observe the ironies beneath the bedrock:

• The owl dreams of becoming the mouse.
• A clock dreads the passage of time.
• Stars tattoo the sky, but ink bleeds not in voids.

Have you tasted the shadow soup? A delightful blend of nothingness and existential crisps. Perfect for pondering on rainy eternities.

Cross the bridge of ice shards, where each step resounds in irony, and find solace in the whispered enigma. Or, perhaps, an echo in the flurry of thoughts.