In the recess of silence, where words tremble before the vast embrace of absence, lies the final revelation. It whispers through the corridors of forgotten echoes, an exposition to those who dare to listen. Not a sound, yet louder than thunder; not a sight, yet brighter than flame.
Consider the absence not as a lack, but as a canvas, the void individually lit by the dreary pleasure of existence unfulfilled. Knowledge like drifting fog, rests heavy upon the mind, dissolving yet never disappearing, completing the circle.
The Middrawing Veil