The whispers of yesterday glance through the veil,
mirrors that reflect nothing yet reveal everything.
Can light weave a tapestry?
Thinking back, decisions dissolve like mist,
converging at the crossroads of all existence,
where reality slips, and visions swirl—a quiet pandemonium.
Three doors stand amid abstract shapes,
manufactured from syllables and hues,
beckoning exploration yet offering illusion.
Reveries of a time unspent,
Fractures in the firmament,
both allure and guard.
What is an echo, if not a question, a reflection
caught in rotation, dizzy like thoughts at dusk?
Splitting starlight reveals burdens unwelcomed,
echoing through corridors of faded dreams.