Once, in the flicker of a neon past,
an unwritten thought falls, vazio na mente.
The echoes whisper among the tangled twain, stories never tested nor lived.
In the ether's tapestry, fleeting moments interlace,
a silken skein of faded yesterdays worn
by the ones who forgot they knew how to weave futures.
As the clock neither ticks nor tocks,
the narrative threads unspool across an imagined realm.
Paths lay inscribed in shadows cast by forgotten suns.
The sea was virgin, oaths never sworn upon her waves,
serene in her untouched trilogy of what could have been, what should have not.
Dip your feet in the tide of dissolution, ancients wrote, again and yet always.