Whispers of ink-stained pages linger in twilight’s embrace,
Shadows twist and turn in the corners of forgotten worlds,
Fragments of laughter echo softly—once savored, now lost.
Upon the bridge of memories, the dreams tread softly,
Yet the river recalls none; its currents a mute canvas.
Upon which you write your longing for an unwritten fate.
Gather these stories like glowing constellations,
In a tapestry adorned with celestial sadness,
To gaze into those starry abysses, to breathe in the unsung,
A mirror to reality’s treacherous dance of color and sound.
Study the faces lost in contradiction, basked in monochrome surrealism,
And if you peer closely, you will find reflections.
For further unraveling: Forgotten Dreams | Echoes of Lost Words | Unwritten Chronicles