Discordant Chimes

Amidst the labyrinthine intricacies of time's fractured tapestry, bedraggled echoes persist — a molasses of memory adhering to every crevice, whispering tales that defy the banality of pointless days. Elders once spoke of nocturnal storms, weaving tumult into their vestments, their voices a hoarse chorus for a disconnected ether.

Distant Voices linger on the threshold, yearning for a bard bold enough to court their ephemeral scorch. They twine like ivy around the bones of forgotten temples, embedding their dissonant harmonies into the stone hearts of ancient myths.

In the sepulcher of Wandering Specters, the morrow's musings crumble to dust, encased in crystalline silence. Respite is caught between the breath of forgotten deities, whose laughter still courses through abandoned synapses, ribboning our fragile realities with threads of illustrious torment.