In the dimly lit corridors of infinite potential, I whisper the sonnets of tomorrow's shadows.
Perception, a fractured prism, reflecting realities that danced on the edge of ultimate solitude.
Cogs of fate grind silently, yet each turn sings a hymn to a future we had not forgotten, but merely ignored.
The archives of yesterday hum with the voices we chose to forget, carving legacies into the ether.
Passageways of time bend, urging contemplation upon those who dare walk the unseen paths.