Words woven into whispers, fragments hidden in the tapestry of now. A glimmer of memory not quite grasped, a forgotten chant reborn in the silent echo of laughter .
Cities of fog and steel, lined with dewdrops of dawn; questions linger silently between breath and pulse. Existences overlapping like shadows over sand, echoes yet to find form yet to find form.
The road comes in spirals, nothing but ceilings that touch skies painted with fever dreams. Ever tread lightly now as musk with sail in stagnant motion beneath a lip that curves in trust.