The clock ticks backwards in the land of scattered dreams,
Where sky meets ground in an embrace of lost echoes.
In corners where shadows whisper, the tales of days long gone,
Lies a map to realms untrodden, stitched with silken voids.
Voices murmur through the fleeting veil of time,
Offering glimpses of forgotten faces and places unknown.
Echoes of silent rivers
And in this expanse, stray thoughts wander,
Seeking the warmth of the sunrise behind the horizon's edge.