In the labyrinth of yesterday,
where whispers weave through the walls of time,
I wander, tracing the lines that memory has etched,
a transient silhouette among shadows of the past.
Do you remember the clock's lament,
its hands frozen in the eternal now?
The breeze carries tales
of skies once painted with dreams,
hues of cerulean longing
that fade with the dusk of recollection.
Footsteps echo in the chambers of solitude,
a symphony played on strings of silence.
Here, the echoes breathe,
and I see them.
Fragments of sentences linger,
like stars caught in the web of a night’s reverie.
Would you like to continue your journey?
Visit the dimensions where shadows dance,
or perhaps the whispers that speak in colors.