Fleeting, they were, beneath the arch of murmurings, the Caves of Dispersion.
Shining inadvertent truths glistening in moist walls
*etched by hands weary of hope,
longing echoes fled like wisps of smoke between Sandy fingers.*
Sheets of sunlight drown a shaded labyrinth.
What quiet specters drift upon the margins of what was defined,
what once lay beneath the acid sheen of memory erased.
Hands reach but touch nothing, save a chill from ages past — stilled yet
unforgotten, resonating through layers transparent as morning dew.
Once, there might've been a pulse. Where whispers wind among grey-barked trees and unseen paths wind like footfalls of the unwritten. Must we [in]scribe more than what the ether suggests?
Musings catch upon the sable cliffs, esoterica in the flicker of a concealed glaze. Past vestigial shadows leap through cosmic gaps bearing verses written by void's hands. Sleep now, blank page — upon you rides again the sealed silence of strumming stars.
For every true tale beneath the veiling smoke, another half-fallacy unwinds in curving silence. Repeat: The history, brave yet nameless like memory itself. Discover others buried here, like long-drowned Resonances.