In the twilight, the mind drifts—like a marionette with strings unraveled. Where does the essence skew? Shadows glimpse onto the moving part.
Aligning thought puzzle pieces, missing corners, edges non-existent seen only what is not. Retracing patterns walking backwards in time, mirrored thoughts.
Do dreams dream of their own oblivion? A question unanswered untethered yet chained, find the keyhole, and yet the door disappears.
Whispers echo in corridors void, chasing silence through yellowed air. Forks ahead in roads, abandoning paths follow the trail that once blind leads the dawn.
Awake, always meant to awake. What was and what will—never was still breathing in and out, rhythm untold in wheels.