In the quiet shiver of dawn, the gossamer thread speaks to those who’ll listen. It entwines within the mind, not binding but weaving additional layers upon what was once certainties.
Colors unfurl like words painted on an unseen canvas, revealing fractal rainbows cascading into the abyss. Beneath the surface lies an ocean of silenced cries, the voices weaving in and out.
Do you perceive the ethereal dance? The flickering, changeless light that of stars long extinguished. A conversation overheard beneath the murmur of a forgotten dream.
The whispers grow as shadows lengthen, more than echoes in an empty chamber, they echo the echoes.