Within the confines of infinite shadow, entrapped in the ceaseless turning void, lies a maze, but not merely a maze — a sanctum of whispers, wherein echo upon echo collapses upon the soul’s precipice, an abyss where every winding path converges at last upon oneself, yielding only mirrors blindingly bright with the absence of light."They twist and turn."
Shadows deepen as the murmurs linger, a saga told by spectres unseen, voices wrapped in velvet darkness, unraveling not knots but themselves, winding in upon their odyssey, movement unseen by eyes long accustomed to the dark, yet feeling the intepidity of breath perhaps once human, or perhaps a hollow resonance of words never spoken."Entwined within, yet sprawling without."
Further into the Maze