The depth unfurls quietly beneath our footsteps. Reports from the edges, Concern grows as does the gravity of each unspoken moment. The disappearances are always unnoticed until it's too late.
The factor in the equation, Calculated maelstroms stirring the night. Shadowy figures gazing, gazing into an eternity that holds nothing. Where does the tide draw this silent vessel?
We inquire incessantly, novels of absence written in saltwater ink, The oceans answer not but echo hollow. Illuminated by flickering efforts, By the dance of the fading lamplight, We remain subjected to twists of fate, to repetitions of stars imploding upon themselves.
An invitation or perhaps a warning: Enter the Denial
The narrative is eternal, cycling without rush or pause, just like time unto itself.