buried beneath the surface there lies a dimension unknown, where the echoes of past whispers mingle with the cosmic winds. did the ancients foresee these drifting borders, these forgotten lines? crumbling walls of perception, a chiasmus of reality unraveling like the threads of a once-secure tapestry. dance of the moths under the beams of forgotten stars.
memory is the key to this labyrinth, but which lock, if any, yields to the weight of its gravity? illusions of perception drift as time flows backward, forwards, sideways, wherever the spires lead. truth? perhaps just a shadow among the spectral planes, a fossilized thought preserved in the amber of 3D space.
have you seen the gateways hidden in the folds of forgotten maps? whispers become words, words become whispers, the cycle feeds on itself like the ouroboros devouring its fractal reality. ah, but beyond the surface of time lies a story unwritten, a vast expanse unfelt. solidity becomes liquid under the gaze of the eternal.
echoes fading, shadows extending; sentinel of oblivion, archiver of dreams, keeper of the eternal now.