A journey upon a silken thread, woven through the loom of time's ambivalence. Shadows of yesterday dance with tomorrow's mist. These are the mystery paths.
"Do you hear the whispers, or have they silenced in your haste?"
In the labyrinth of starlit thoughts, my feet tread upon the crumbled ruins of ancient remarks. Each echo, a fading bell in the cathedral of dreams.
A solitary lamplight sways above a cobblestone alley, reflects my image distorted — a tapestry of yesterdays and forgotten tomorrows.
Unseen Gates Twilight Reverie Ephemeral StoriesAnd so, with ink-stained fingers, I; the wanderer, chart the unchartable, where paths twist back to meet shadows of lost selves.
"Beneath the surface, the mirror waits."
Reflect, reflect the dream upon dew-kissed glass. Each droplet a universe of fragmented selves, whispering lost truths in lyric prose.