Beneath the skin, where whispers meet the silent echoes
An ink-drenched quill scribbles without will,
Etching pathways through minds not yet awake,
It all begins in the labyrinth's hidden gate.
Fragmented thoughts flicker like distant stars,
The soul spiral descends, weaving through universal bars,
Sunkissed shadows and shaded lights,
Navigate this inner maze of forgotten nights.
Somewhere in the static, a voice softly hums,
In the ink of dreams, reality succumbs,
Endless corridors of truth and lie,
Where every door opened reveals the sky.
You walk, though unsure if awake or dream,
Past the visions where the soul's echoes scream,
The heart whispers, the mind complies,
In this endless journey, no one dies.