In the quiet corners of the mind, where the elixirs of silence brew, I found fragments of forgotten lullabies. They speak not to the ear but to the soul; murmurs of yesteryears lost in the fabric of starlit dreams.
Sometimes I become the lunatic, weaving tapestries of words that spill over the edges of reality. "Listen," they say, "to the echoes that never were, to the shadows of voices unheard." I pause here, a moment suspended in time, a breath caught in the silver web of the moon's gaze.
Reflect, reflect, they chant, the shadows of shadows, and I become the mirror, the water, the stillness. I cannot tell where the reflection ends and where I begin.
Whispers of the Forgotten | Echoes of Lunacy | Dance of Shadows