The benefits of silence now stand as pillars in an empty hall, where time coils like a serpent. Words relinquished their weight long ago, evaporating like mist, yet remnants remain feebly lighting the fractured pathways.
Once spoken volumes, now
left in echoes, hollow and splintered
through waves of transient hush
dim atoms, each a whisper's grave.
To think membranes of sound entwined, silently disentangling.
What once thrummed with the vibrance of unity now merely pulses
in soft dissonance. Their echoes reach mismatched frequencies, echoes
bouncing off forgotten constellations; a reverberation of entities
unveiled and re-contextualized, forever apart yet tethered.
On divided edges, spectral horizons arise
delineating the intrinsic chaos
of truth drifting with the whispers
where now rests
a mirror to oneself, too distant
yet too unchanged.