Walkways of the Lunatic Mind

Shadows whisper in murky tones,
a melody of things unthought and unspoken,
a voice that flickers like flames too weak to warm.
There is a path here—twisted, gnarled,
paved with the remnants of thoughts that fell
from mad kings who crowned themselves witless.

"It's in the shadows they say
that truth wears its masks most comfortably"
the old clock tells no time, only stories
through rusted gears lost to the winds of change.

Wanderers seek here the echo of footsteps never taken,
the lingering scent of future regrets,
and the taste of bittersweet laughter,
trapped in the folds of a shadow's embrace.

Connect the dots not with light,
but with the void's gentle caress.
Do you see it? No, not yet.
But you feel it—a whisper in the silence…
a doorway to where time takes a breath.