In the caverns of forgotten days, my voice sought an audience. It clothed me, went where I dared not, and sang when I disappeared.

Speak your name, they said. But names dissolve like mist, climbing spectral peaks and veils of shadow. Half-whispered truths align like phantoms in an empty corridor.

Echoes of Past Murmurs

Sometimes, amidst the howling of forsaken memories, there’s a flash—a spark illuminating nothing but itself—a cruel jest of light.

Nocturnal Dialogues

I walk where the asylum of silence shelters lost souls. If silence could speak, it would murmur my name, tracing invisible scars across untrodden realms.

Ventriloquist of Shadows