She wandered labyrinths of forgotten yesterdays, traces of lyres plucking unseen chords, amongst the whispers of shadows cast by ancient light.
Dunes of clocks thrumming in cyclic song, traversed by footsteps both hers and not, echoedorbs beckoning from fissures laid bare by moon's indifference.
Digitized runes expanded like dreams at dawn, arcane paths diverged, as forgotten navigators scribbled maps to nowhere.
Improbable, impossibility, woven threads of conglomerate realities— realities that could have been, or perhaps, transient whims of what might be.
There—a choice—a breath held by tectonic uncertainty, beneath three moons that forgot their place. Conversations with the past that echo like a laugh turned to stone.