In the echoing corridors of yesternight, a whisper dances briefly upon the fringes of silence. Shadows gather in solemn witness, their shapes unraveling in the twilight haze, a symphony of silhouettes bound in twilight embrace.
Footprints - shadowy markers upon a path untaken - with no beginning and no end. They trace the dance of souls lost in dreams, where the mist curls like forgotten memories, and the moon hides behind a veil of unspoken promises.
The heart, a vessel of quiet despair, yearns for the touch of daylight, yet finds solace in the gentle caress of overcast skies, where the crows speak in riddles and the trees sigh with ancient wisdom.
Such are the interludes of the dreamscape, where the mind wanders through endless hallways of the heart, seeking the doors that lead to nowhere.