The whispers gather, like leaves shivering in an unseen breeze,
ibuoyg;'w do we ot kniht, the patterns in the air—none are truly lost,
only hidden, obscured by the veil of stars twinkling their distant lies.
A ship in a bottle, sailing on the waves of glass, breaking
with a sound that resonates through time's hollow chambers, echoing long
after the last drop of music fades into silence, it was all an illusion.
Do you feel the echoes, the pulses of forgotten truths
that dance like shadows around the firelight, revealing secrets unexplained. Explanations are for
those who think they are not air, not water, not earth, not void, but...
And in this web, we weave meaning from the threads of
chaos, a tapestry unraveled by understanding too deep, too profound
are the echoes, reverberating in the silence that follows.