As your gaze lingers upon the mirrored glass, it slicks ink-like, a creeping cloud unveiling an undiscovered history of forgotten echoes. Gnarly whispers entwine themselves within the folds of spectral hues, curling tendrils that slice through the ether — resonating with timeless secrets unsaid.
Along the verdant fringes, where silence dances with the flicker of dusk, whispers of a bygone twilight tarnish reality. A fleeting glimpse into the visage of shadows, letting tangible screams dissolve in perfumed air, laced with ghostly sighs.
Traversing through these haunting landscapes of reflection, one can hear scattered murmurs lisping tales of eldritch forests and starlit realms. A mocking parley, an ineffable conspiracy of voices hidden beneath the surface.
The soul's mirror, beckoning like a lantern submerged in dreams, releases frostbitten nostalgia — a tender lull amid translucent gates, composing the elegy of glacial mirrors.
Glimmers of Lament