The Spectres of Yesterday's Visions

In each fractured lens, a spectre whispers — echoes of forgotten epochs, simmering beneath the layers of time like shadows at dusk. What memory lingers, untold and unreachable, within the crystalline depths?

These spectres, reminders of what was perhaps never, gazes through the splintered glass. They shift, they dance, they dissolve into the ether, leaving only fragments of thoughts suspended in the air:

• Do we walk the path of destiny or create the path as we wander?
• The voice of the past, silent yet profound, speaks in dreams.
• Is the present merely a shadow of the future's spectres?
• Once, they were. Now, they ponder, reflections of reflections.

As the dawn breaks, will the lenses hold the spectres still, or will they, too, fade into the forgotten light?

Echoes of Phantoms
Timeless Questions