In the heart of shadows, whispers weave the fabric of forgotten dreams. The mind echoes with silent screams, taming light where darkness reigns. An endless maze of thoughts curls upon itself, revealing nothing yet everything at once.
Voices fracture against the silence, like waves upon an unseen shore. An invocation, perhaps, of those who linger in the corridors of thought, where screams exist without form, without sound—yet heard, always heard.
Circles within circles, layers peeled slowly by an unseen force, unraveling the tapestry of conscious thought. Each thread a reflection of itself, revealing the void, and then the cosmos, in a blink.
Unspoken Dreams