Across the celestial punctuation of untold tales,
dimensions fracture softly, cradling
whispers that sift through storied echoes.

In the garden of lost grids, where shadows play
upon forgotten lands,
the voices of those
once revered in obscurity
weave letters in a spectral dance.

Have you ever felt these
projections of the past,
flickering through spaces
between moments?

Touch the ledge of the unknown
and summon:
the next ripple,
or
an ancient thought.