In the echoing chambers of unspoken dreams, every silence is a melody, every pause a crescendo. Listen closely, beyond the noise, and let the whispers of forgotten prose weave their symphonies into your mind.
Like a maestro painting the air with invisible brushstrokes, words dance in the ether. Each phrase, a note; each stanza, a symphony composed in silence.
Do you hear them? The unuttered verses lying in wait, like phantoms in a quiet room. They tug at your consciousness, urging you to seize the fleeting harmonies before they vanish into the void once more.
Round and round they go, a carousel of thoughts unsaid, spinning in the expanse. The rhythm is infectious; the tempo intoxicating. Join the dance, and let your own words join the chorus.
For these are not merely words; they are the lifeblood of a universe unseen, a testament to the beauty of what could be, if only we dared to listen.