In the dusk of a realm untouched by sunlight, beyond a gateway forged of tendrils and whispers, dwelt mirrors that spoke in tones not known to the waking ear.
These were reflections of dreams once popular among the shade dwellers, cast by flames that burned without heat in the ancient vaults.
A figure, cloaked and menceding softly through dark beams, pondered upon these luminous reflections.
_Thoughts, like twinkling phantoms, danced among the fragments as they murmured of autumn leaves that lingered long past October’s confirmatory death knell_.
Know that the heart has wells of gravity unmatched by even the cosmic pull,
swallowing joys and anchoring despair – as heavy as iron yet intangible as air.
Through tumultuous waves of dusk-ridden emotions, the void whispers back softly,
reconstructing a ballet of sorrows clad in roses, writ upon a keep’s desolate parchment.
Journey further into fate's intricate design with the collected echoes here.
Mayhaps the mirror whispers today of yesteryears or the whispers of untold yesterdays, itself borne of time's labyrinthine artistry… Reflect on that, for it may grant visions of tomorrow's elusive truth.
Transition, tremulous, from this mirrored reflection to conceive an ephemeral equation of thought here.