Ebbing whispers paint the void, forgotten echoes cling to time itself. Omens flicker in shades of gray before retreating into the mists of yesterday.
An mute understanding arises from shadows, weaving through the labyrinth of fading hopes. When twilight descends, where are the dreams we dared to dream?
(Unseen) realms await, just beyond your reached fingertips. The door to oblivion rests, half ajar, awaiting the tender touch of relinquishment.
Consider: All journeys converge at the mapless horizon of irretrievability, where the language of those long-vanished speaks in the silence between each heartbeat.