In the shadows of the mind, where thoughts flicker like candle flames trembling against a gust, what truths remain undiscovered? Beyond the tangible horizon, the silhouettes of our dreams intone melodies of forgotten futures — just echoes bouncing within a hollow chamber.
Does the solitary silhouette mimic the stance of its creator, or does it dance independently in the infinite void? Its echo, like a wisp of smoke, dissipates yet leaves behind an intangible mark.
Mankind, in all its splendor and absurdity, constructs these temporary edifices of certainty. But as the philosopher once mused, "Does the shadow know of the form it echoes, or is it blissfully ignorant, content to exist in semi-permanent ambiguity?"
Reflections in Water