Emotions linger like ghosts, dancing on the periphery of awareness, whispering softly,
lost in loops of time. Memories fade and reappear, shadows projected on walls of the mind,
elusive and faint. A mirror reflects nothing, or perhaps everything, in a constant state
of flux, never settling, always shifting, always hiding. In the background they think they
hear it: the sound of waves crashing, but it's just echoes, echoes, echoes, repeating, repeating,
repeating in the silence.
A voice speaks, but whose? Is it yours, or is it mine, or is it a thousand others speaking
through the veil? Words become unclear like a dream that fades at dawn, leaving only fragments,
only hints of what was, and what could have been. The reflect, the reflect, the hidden reflect
waits for your gaze, but we hesitate, petrified by the unknown.
Somewhere beneath these sentences lies a truth, or perhaps a lie, or perhaps nothing at all.
Listen closely, feel the rhythm of the words, the sway of the lines, they dance in a hypnotic
sequence, drawing you in, deeper, deeper beneath the surface. The reflect, oh the reflect,
hidden but not forgotten.
In this hidden place, we are alone, yet surrounded by voices that echo into eternity.