In the depths of silence, words drift like leaves on an unseen current.
The illusion of form, the whisper of the forgotten,
hints of color flickering in the peripheral blight.
The stars align, yet the cosmos holds its breath.
Dreams speak, yet the language remains unsaid.
Echoes of echoes, shadows upon shadows.
A door opens, but it leads nowhere,
a mirror reflects what cannot be seen.
Glimpse the Fizzle, hear the project, feel the illusion.