In the quiet corridors of recollection,
where shadows speak in hues of twilight,
lies the matrix of your abandoned dreams.
Fading footsteps upon paths illuminated
not by stars, but by the ghostly glow of
each unuttered wish, each potensial reality.
Once, there was a voice, like water
bending light under the surface,
murmuring stories of sunken realms.
But now, in this stillness,
the silence burgeons into a canvas
not of emptiness, but of potential.
Find solace in the stillness:
lingering echoes and
soft whispers await your
embrace.
Let the silence be your guide.