A whisper navigates through a corridor unseen,
The memory of shadows flickering against the luminescence of time. Paths intertwine,
Yet the echo remains, persistently echoing, through cracked walls and forgotten names.
Somewhere, beyond the threshold of mundane existence, lies an intersection where roads diverge, and the unspoken finds voice amidst the forlorn echoes. The pathways unfold, revealing secrets ensconced in the ebon void.
Grasp not the fleeting specters that dance in the peripheries of reveries, for they are but shadows of what could have been, what should have been, and what remains untold.