Oh, footsteps echo across the damp concrete of transient dreams, yet they lead nowhere but to whispers of yesterdays forgotten. Crumpled leaves underfoot—a memory of laughter lost in the void.
Under the weight of silent stars, one contemplates the balance of existence, a tuning fork vibrating to the resonance of nothingness, creating waves unseen. Do shadows dance in the absence of light, or is it merely the essence of life's emptiness, carving paths that spiral infinitely?