Through Hidden Mirrors

Beneath the sands of time, echoes of the past whisper to the constellations. A voice carries from an unseen horizon.

Reflections on an alien shore, where footsteps imprint on liquid glass. The tide remembers nothing, yet the grains sing tales.

Shadows dance in the periphery, casting silhouettes of memories untold. What is the visage within the whispers of these mirrors?

In the fusion of night and luminescent dawn, a riddle stands still: is perception itself the true lens, or merely an echo in the void?