The static murmurs of the world beneath consciousness,
Pixels slowly shifting to reveal
A forgotten symphony, 
Conducted in shadows, intertwined with 
The reverb of time lost—
Among those echoes, a whisper asks:
“Who are you, amidst the colors that bleed?”

Memory flickers like a tired street lamp,
Illuminating paths both familiar and alien;
From horizon to horizon of the mind, 
Silence carves stories in the air 
Where the forgotten journey ends.
    
Consider, how long have these thoughts
Lengthened like shadows in twilight’s embrace?
Between the lines of neon dreams they breathe,
Waiting for a heart to recognize their song.