If you close your eyes, can you feel the echoes
tracing the outline of what never was?
A compass with no needle, pointing
to the weightless touch of a phantom limb.
Every murmur is a shadow of something
carved out of whispers, through
the fog of a forgotten sense.
Wander here, where the silence maps
its own absence, and listen to the
secrets left by time unspent.
Follow the trace | Echoes