The whispers chant the verses, whispered verses, tracing a line through the twilit air—do you follow the line?
Shadows dance, flickering with a spark unseen, unseen yet felt, forgotten rhythms that call you home.
Echoes of the echoing echoes, rippling through time, trace the time until it traces you back.
Questions without answers linger here, yet the answer is the question, the question is the yearning emptiness.