In the dim quiet, a whisper stirs, Sunken logs light gravity's cradle, We ask of what was never said—only felt. But the void murmurs with echoes unseen.
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Conversations note the marks of silence, Tides fall to reveal sand's embrace, Yet permanence frays like yarn astray, Gleeful puzzles gather shadows.
Murmurs translate to colors unseen, Needles whispering on the edge of void, Fragments reformed—a mirror flipped askew.