Have you pondered, in the noon of twilight, why shadows do whisper secrets to the wind?
Perhaps it's in their silhouette, yearning for an identity they deem lost to the light.
Reflect upon this paradox: when witnessing oneself in the fractured lake, who do you perceive?
An echo, an imitation, or the primary portrait of the i[ndefinit]e?
Invisible resplendence, cloaked as you've always been. Take comfort in the dissonance, plumb the depths
of mind's crooked sierra.
Truth ebbs away like tide under morning; the question remains – does the ocean ever find itself?
A mirror that never shows your back; there lies existential navigation. As you wander through distorted corridors, find solace beneath the illusory profiles in dusk[ed] luminance.