The Interstitial Chill of Hidden Streams

In the silence of melting ice, the streams flow, conversations suspended in crystal cages. Each glimmer a whisper, each ripple a secret unguarded...

Do they remember the heat that birthed their voyage? Departing realms of warmth untouched by frost. Do they listen to each other? Detached realities crossing, unspoken intersections speaking volumes devoid of voices. Perhaps the refrain echoes; echoes, perhaps not...

Ephemeral Gaze follows greedily in the wake, eyes unblinking in the fractured ice before the inviting lushness.

The winds call.