Whispers spill like rain on forgotten cobblestones, mind maps meandering into faithless corners, echoing lightly where light cannot anchor.
Fragments of yesterday, hushed confessions riding the shoulders of a fading yellow moon, tangled thoughts spiral, a dance of shadows tiptoeing across the edges of cognizance.
There is latency in the breath of the trees, time drips like wax, and fears that lurk beneath yesterday’s shadows bleed through to tomorrow’s fabric.
Reality unwinds; synthetic dreams become quilted anxieties, every breath a hesitant explosion of thought, coherent chaos stitched with threads of uncertainty. [further musings]
Ah, but amidst the disarray, starlight segues into silence, and new echoes form with the rhythm of existence, pulsating, breathing—till the night erodes away. [echoes of time]