Beneath the pale moonlight, echoes weave through crumbling incantations; shadows drift, shadows flicker, shadows beckon you deeper into despair — pull back the curtains of your mind.
In the stillness, time coils in spirals, purring echoes of soft lamentations, “Come closer,” they chant, “feel the weight of existence, feel the burden of forgotten dreams.”
They scream in silence, within the strands of darkened tapestries; “A cacophony without sound, a dance without limbs; such captivating threshing reminds us of what is lost.”