The Echoing Lunacy
Once in whispered folds of the imagination, the silence spoke— its voices were echoes caught under silvered winks of moonlit waters.
Do dreams filter through the cracked prism of reality?
In this reflective silence, shadows augment with the sounds of untold stories:
an old swing creaks in the foreign wind, a lost child’s laugh fades into stars.
The horizon bends—where sea converges with sky, a mirage conceives of broken truths.