Fragments of yesterday gather in the dark corners of a mind, wistfulness echoing like footsteps in a silent hall...
What remains when the sands of time erode even the stars?
Lost souls linger, a palpable breath against the fading twilight. Greetings from echoes unreachable, sepia-toned whispers cut from tomorrow.
Once, a garden bloomed in the silence, its petals curling like dreams held too long; who watered this hell?
Perhaps a forgotten memory could be revived.
As eyes of nebulae expand beyond grasp, there lies a stillness. Linger, dear wanderers of lost night, your savior lies in waiting.
You wander through what could have been, echoes resounding as you trace your fingertips against the fabric of yesterday.