Facade of Truth
Once upon a memory, fragments scatter, converging only under the elusive glow of mirrored twilight.
Do you see it there? A shadow of self under layers of lucid flights and nights obscured.
What is a facade but the dance of surfaces? Inverted depth given to shapeless gravity, the mind's reflection.
Behind the glass, secrets whisper into the ether. Unravel the edges for they hold the stories untold.
The wanderers pause, gazing at the pool of mirrored dreams, contemplating the creed of silence.
Do facades crumble or merely peel away to reveal another guise, each layer another echo of reality refracted?