Meandering amidst whispering waves, the horizon utters words only found beneath the consciousness.
Soft blue spectres teasing sleepy eyes, forming unwritten nebulas drifting upon cautious breaths.
Do the echoes have vision, or is it the silken tether binding the realm—one invisible, surreal?
Steps resound in liquid void, vanishing as echoes dance forward spirits of amethyst currents.
Embrace the shroud tenderly, swallowed by folds dating to combat unseen strife.
Listen carefully, follow vertices unseen. (Forgotten Paths)
Understanding births within this liminality, shadows embroidened with intangible silk.
Navigate through shared mumbles, incense trails of intangible destinations.
The horizon must gnarl, yet emit—betray nothing, luminous fingers bedeck dialogue obscene.
Glimpse the multiverse heed this wisp, chain to visions frail through worlds that are not.
(Past Sight)