The silent corridor of the mind echoes the shadowed songs of solitude. Reflections within mirror confines contemplate their hollow nature.
Can a whisper know the fabric of past days? Or does it merely hum in the vacuous chamber, untouched by time, a memory yet unborn, yet fleeting with lists of unasked questions? Here lies a link to more inked reflections reverie.
See how the light dances 'round corners unseen, how it paints thoughts in shades of recalled dreams. It questions the permanence of every stanza.
A blink discloses not and still it knows unraveling reflections, as faces gaze and forget, to turn the echo perpetual. Visit another frame, another dance, where the waiting never starts here.