Shadows ripple in the corners,
a silent echo of
something once said.

Footsteps on dust,
a trace of a
journey forgotten.

On the wind,
whispers of
laughter unheard.

In the void,
a telescope looks
to the stars—alone.

Through the mist,
a lighthouse:
flicker, fade, repeat.

Return to the hollow,
where the ground
remembers your name.

A mirror in the fog,
reflecting
what might have been.

The sea of sleep,
endless, yet
never quite full.