Whispers of the Veil

The thousand flickers of a solitary star whisper:
"With each blink, epochs are birthed and devoured."

Fragmented reflections from the Abyss inquire:
"What is the name of the shadow cast by things unimagined?"

The Clockwork remembers:
"Time is a river that forgets its sources, yet sings of them."

A dusty tome in an attic's whisper recounts:
"Here, where all roads diverge, the pervasive silence speaks volumes."