Glacial breaths of forgotten lullabies tangle with restless thoughts, the melody never quite leaving but always slipping, like translucent specters dancing in semi-darkness, casting hints of the forsaken. Through paths woven of threads unseen, I wander and listen, silently tracing over curves in time that spin and dance.
Is it the whispering dusk that calls us deeper into the embrace of shadowed corridors, or the promise of dreams lulled into sleep by gentle hands? Here, among the corridors of misplaced whispers, a voice soft as moth wing caresses the ear, murmuring the verses of a lullaby.
See here, the doorways that bend light, reflections of things never said, never desired yet lingering like the heartbeats of stars. The threadbare songs spill from the walls, echoing the unspoken memories, unclaimed and untouched.
Step softly, for missteps can lead to places lost in the mist of the waking world. But in this world of shadow, of lost things and longing, the heart remembers.
Retrace the paths