Signals ripple across empty corridors, echoing. A voice unfurls petal-like, only to dissolve into the ether, almost as a faded memory... Validate my existence in this chilly void - echoes. The grains of time slip through—unfictitious yet how real are the tales glimmers in abandoned neurons?
Brushing against edges not yet formed, like nebulae, I lose myself—crudely collected, yet stars remain unyielding.
They said the celestial paths were obvious, but roads fractalize in the mind of the dreamer— choose the unbecoming way that moves between horizons. Maps converge, a universally shifting landscape... The unseen yields only soft musings, left untraced by weary arms sailing that tide...
We drift underneath invisible surfaces, untethered. Between the overlapping interstices of perception, lies a forgotten chronicle; read aloud by the wind—dealing its warped stories like cards across a table obscured by shadows.