The whisper of forgotten songs linger in our intertwined dreams. You hear it, don't you? It spirals like smoke escaping from a hidden door. Remember the rhythm, warm like summer rain. Washed over hills, enveloping silence in its embrace.
Glimpses of a melody echo, refracting through the cobwebs of past lives. Do you remember, the way it shuddered? Threads pulled tight over ether. Notes swim in infinity, merging with nebulous cadence... are we one, in this silent crescendo?
Sometimes I wonder if sound was born from chaos or crafted by hands unseen. Touch me with silence, will you? Dance beneath the surface, where time melts away.
There are experiments of ruin washed into clay color whispers. Songs of the universe, indigo and kaleidoscopic. Don't you see the spiral, touching every note, tracing symbiosis? What are we if not echoes in an eternal requiem?