In the hollowed corridors of a fading twilight, words echo
echo
the tick of clocks slowed by dreams forgotten.
Dreams that slip through our fingers like mist
only to be
caught in the webs of moments unsaid.
There lies a road paved with intentions,
where shadows dance to the songs of familiarity,
a path we tread unknowingly,
only to find remnants of ourselves
scattered like autumn leaves.
And what of these words,
lost and wandering,
seeking the warmth of meaning
in the cold embrace of silence?
They speak
they whisper
truths we dare not hear.
Beyond the horizon of our waking thoughts,
lies the ocean of the subconscious,
where waves crash silently,
washing ashore the shells of memories benign,
yet profound.