Listen closely, for the horizon does not rally a beckon; it murmurs in static tongues. The kind that grates against the cluttered thoughts, setting off alarms in the mind's minutest recess. But what, you ask, does the horizon mean when it crackles? Perhaps it jest with invisible whispers meant for unattainable ears.
Ironically, the static conveys truths we aren't meant to understand. A series of beeps and hisses urging us onward while tightening the noose of absence around our lives. Yet, "horizon" is but a distant buzz; an undeclared mirage reflecting nothing, demanding everything.