Are reflections of shadows offering NOT longing yet embracing the unseen reality they mirror.
The stars begin their song, an unwritten melody without notes. I reach out, but touch is a fleeting memory, bending light behind the whispering curtain of the universe.
What dreams do pixels weave when codes asunder sleep? And can the echo of a thought travel beyond the labyrinth of time?
Calibans question, Golias answer. Is it reason that laughs, or fate's folly that weeps in the eternal solitude?
In every silence, a choice is made. An ephemeral script scratched upon reality's skin — deliberately erased, yet ( always:) remembered.