Beyond the fog, a whisper lingers lonely, waiting to dissolve in time's embrace. Echoes that were never spoken—silence extends its velvet hand.
Beneath the hidden sun, shadows of forgotten deities dance on the precipice of dreams. A tapestry woven with threads of absence.
Words unspoken, but not undone, linger in the fissures of existence. Unuttered truths speak louder in the silence of the prophet.
In the void, a paradox is born. Is knowing the absence not a form of presence? Whispers in the dreamscape echo forever.
The prophet stands alone, yet not alone. Silence is both a companion and an adversary.