In the sepia-toned world of yesteryear, the flickering frames stuttered a world beyond grasp,
silhouettes flailing in time’s embrace — whispering constellations unseen,
glimmers of thoughts half-caught, like moths circling in the emitting glow of dying stars.
How does one reflect upon the ephemeral nature of existence? Like silent reels, threading memories that warp with each admiring gaze.Each gaze a spectral delusion, a glint on the surface of eternal night.
Would you listen to the wisdom of ancient shadows,
the waltz of forgotten echoes breezing through dimensional schisms?
Each breath, an unwritten verse...
Constants drift — cosmic crumbs leading to nests
where misty voices confer toward horizons unfound.
Tread lightly, as the void composes the symphony of absence.
← Embrace this offering
journey to the ink in the celestial inkpot...