Cursed Whisper in the Labyrinth

In the stillness, a whisper echoes, weaving through the corridors of the mind. A fleeting thought on existence, brushed by the hand of eternity.
"When were you last free of chains?" it questions, lingering like morning mist.
The echo passes, never to return, yet it clings to you like air to breath—a paradox of presence.

In these labyrinths of thought, discoveries are transient, each idea a single brush stroke in an ever-evolving tapestry.
Does the path vibrate with whispers of ancients, or does it mirror our own unvoiced fears?
Perhaps every twist and turn is a reflection of self, revealing and concealing in equal measure.

Seek the whispers, hold them close, for they are all that anchor us to the now.
Yet be warned—the paths here are cursed, tempting wanderers with the echo of truths unspoken.
Listen closely, but do not follow blindly; the shadows know your chosen paths better than you.