Empty Rooms, Echoed Thoughts
Dear observer in the alcove whence shadows cast their wildery, listen to these walls slip with ages of empathy, where silence dares to wear a voice. Do doors linger for us as puzzles long unturned? Each creak beneath your hesitant footing carries whispered sentiments untold, lying latticeworks amidst beguiled breadth.
In realms where specters might entwine the sinews of time, hear the invitation of unopened corridors resting bereft of clamor. Each peeled paint upon the door, speaks not just of these dreams deferred, yet of vivid vestiges treading air — were they ever here by our choice?
Perhaps the doorways admire us from consecutive schemes of reality, intwyined visitors of spheres unforeseen. If we linger here long enough, shall future selves wave, or might time coil our couches into moments surreal?
Step careworn their sepulchered ease, buoyed by dilated breaths until the stars within reach connect the why, or just reflect the coherence of unwoven tapestries of dreams.