In the quietest corners of the mind, where echoes of thought flit between the shadows and light.
A silence can speak louder than any scream, mirrored against the still waters of consciousness.
Do whispers of the past originate from the future's reflections?
The mirror holds not only reflection but replication. Yet, does the mirrored silence hold truth?
Or does it merely repeat the void, a whisper of what was and what could be?
Consider the silence; let it permeate the dreams that unravel in the deep night.