In the dusk of my mind, where thoughts flow like rivers and dreams like distant echoes, a whisper speaks—a ghost of the now.
The stories of autumn leaf unions. A tapestry woven from forgotten yarns. Would you care to listen to their song?
I've wandered paths made of molten whispers, seeking the meaning where shadows dance, knitting silence with an unseen hand.
Look closer: open me to reveal the time's hidden maze.