In the quiet moments before dawn, when the world holds its breath, whispers of unspoken promises linger. They huddle in corners, waiting for a touch, a breath, a memory to reshape them into the reality they almost were.
The shadow of an old friend passes by, leaving a trace of forgotten laughter in the air. It echoes softly, a melody too familiar yet too distant to catch. These remnants, fragmented and ephemeral, slip through the fingers like grains of sand.
Arrivals — glimpses of things hoped for but never reached. Echoes — reminders of a voice long past, speaking truths you never wanted to hear. Elsewhere — the paths Not Taken, winding off into the periphery of a life unlived.The toast burns, the coffee brews bitter; the day's routine seeps in, unavoidable. Yet, beneath the familiar waves of everyday tasks, dreams once vivid now float like ghostly ships on a foggy sea.
There was a time when those dreams whispered promises of adventure, of love at first sight and lifelong friendships forged in the crucible of shared moments. Now they linger at the edges, their voices a constant reminder of potential lost to the mundane.
Matter of Time — a phrase that haunts, taunts, and teases. Loop — the cycle we willingly accept. Horizons — always out of reach, shifting with every fleeting thought.As the sun dips below the horizon, its parting light casts a golden hue on the memories lost in twilight. Some were made yesterday, some a lifetime ago, and others belong to a tomorrow that seems increasingly elusive.
In this half-light, dreams remember themselves to be more than mere thoughts; they are living entities, waiting for acknowledgment. You watch them dance on the edge of your consciousness, fleeting but real, like the final notes of a symphony in the stillness of night.
Fragments — pieces of a puzzle you never bothered to complete. Waves — crashing, receding, forever returning. Realities — defined by choices made and unmade, tangible in their absence.