Ticking clocks murmur secrets untold, turning gears in the whispering wind, a dance of forgotten echo and the muted laughter of shadows past. A rabbit hole enticingly deep, where words descend into voids of cotton-soft noise.
Encrypted whispers of time "the sky weeps crystal" and "laughter fades into whispers". Each footprint on the path dissolving in the mist, leading nowhere and everywhere at once, the essence of a journey unwritten, a song unsung.
In the fabric of night embroidered with stars, "voices in vibration" linger, their resonance suspended in the stillness. Perceptions tethered by threads of golden minutes and silver seams, casting halos over unseen horizons.