In the web of stars drawn by invisible hands, the silhouette waltzes
through realms unnoticed, unheard, and uninvited.
The cacophony of unsung songs fills the void, haunting the corners
where daylight fears to tread. A symphony in monochrome, they say.
Silhouettes of yesterday's tomorrows,
clad in garments of irony, mocking their own reflections
in the puddles of digital nostalgia.
The moon smiles, a voyeur of the absurd,
while the sun takes a sabbatical, avoiding the scene
like an audience skipping the second act of a ghastly play.
Join the dance of ephemeral forms:
Dark Verses and
Illusions await.