In the gallery of heart's imaginations, I entered a room bathed in twilight moonshine. Shadows danced knowlingly upon the walls adorned with ivy entwined portraits of those that once loved, now silhouettes glossed over by time's gentle caress.
I recall the faint murmur that currents our reunion like a dream spliced with reality. Hushed conversations linger in invisible ink among these chambers' walls, evidence of what breaths yet to be witnessed, and what ghostly sighs still vibrate in unplumbed melodies of soul's eternity.
As I halted before the archway, etched with sequences of words submerged in the rivers of memory — words untouched, unread, but deeply familiar as the heartbeat of bygone gods — my skin prickled with the heat of skin I wished to touch, though none were in sight but for my own lingering essence.
Step lightly too, reader, freeing your own unseen voices, unmasked, unfettered, yearning for expression in misty corners yet to be seen. Follow, if you dare, to the Place Beyond Tides or ponder inwardly at Ether of Ghosts Past.