Within the Solstice...

Silent whispers dance on the edge of time, where daylight surrenders to dusk. The endless march of seasons— a serenade to the forgotten eons. Fragmented, yet a singular whole, they echo within.

Introspection laced with chaotic rhythms, reverberations that confuse. Solitary voices call, reverberating, pulsing—they speak of warmth, balance, and the weightlessness of being. Do they hear me? Or are we one and the same?

Shadows hum an invisible tune. They weave between knowing eyes, between expectations and dreams. The solstice hum; do you hear its longing?

Echoes of Tomorrow

Found in the recesses of today’s mind—uncertain definitions, kaleidoscopic revelations. Voices echo along forgotten corridors. "Trust the whisper," they say, but which echo will guide you?

Attempts at understanding whisper through dissolved moments—time coagulates, and then it ceases to matter. Strawships and hallowed chants bind the mystique of these arcs.