Interlude of the Dark Murmur

Lenses shatter, refract: eye upon the echo—ceaseless murmur transcending coherence. Visions drawn in velvet whispers slide on walls unseen. Murky truths adorn the lattice where light flickers only in dreams. Roving spheres tread across ink-bellied horizon. Conversations left hanging in the weave of twilight breaths echo forth.

Smiles upon the fringe, living watercolor against the frost-touched nights. Words tumbled, uncharted, across the chiaroscuro shores. Every sound a chromatic ripple, questioning its own origin. Breathe: the emerald fern's whisper holds forgotten tales. Lines break, voices disperse into folded silence - revealed gently, like the unopened petals of insipid sorrow. A disquieting murmur weaves through each leaf, as if the roots themselves whispered brittle laughters into the filigree air.

Waters weave their secrets sprawled in rhythm. Long echoes told by wavering ebon figures splash across amber solitude. Unbroken arcs tap quietly on silver threads—absence reveling as the morning star scatters delicate azure amongst the ash-dust realms. True beauty found within the murmur's darkest embrace, an intimate contact beneath the hunter's gravitational offer—the gentle tug of distant shadows.