Insects of thought
scrawl their annals
on the dust of time.
landscapes whisper
secrets of shadows
through the dew of dreams.
within the mirror's echo, there lies an absent tongue, ceaselessly seeping. Grains of sand are memories, whispering. Once, a silhouette danced, casting reflections upon the tablet of the night sky. Touch not the song, for it hums in frequencies.
témoins the stars
of forgotten vows
retreat into night,
as the tide listens.
Among the broken echoes of a fractured dawn lay the ultradomain maps, sketched in the ink of invisible rain. Visit: the void's abode, lest it forget to breathe.