In the silent chambers of our minds, thoughts bounce off walls, creating a cacophony of what could have been understood, were it not for the darkness that encompasses them. These echoed reflections serve as mirrors that distort reality, amplifying fears yet whispering subtleties hushed by time. Shadows stretched, drawn by the pale moon’s insufficient glow, guard these whispered resonances.
Reflect upon it, if you can: the infused magic of what-bears-no-name slowly coiling through the corridors of consciousness. Ever so gentle, the touch of reminiscences unspoken yet present. The difficult art of silent screams, becoming shadows themselves when placed against an expected cry, an inevitable release trapped within cosmic dimensions.