Somewhere in between the echoes, we find ourselves. The same whispers, the same shadows. Are they phantoms of yesteryear? Or just reflections in a fractured mirror?
We turn the corner, expecting something different, perhaps. Yet, it's just the same old song playing, a record stuck in its groove. Echoes that remind us of what we once knew, but can't quite remember.
Here we stand, or is it sit? The lines blur, the boundaries dissolve. Chronicles unfinished, tales untold, yet we replay the loop, the cycle.
Each portal offers a glimpse, a potential change, yet we hesitate. Why? Perhaps it's the comfort of the familiar. Or perhaps the fear of the unknown.
But in the end, what is the end? Another beginning? The same turning wheel, the incessant ticking. Phantoms at the gate, waiting. Watching.
Step forward, step back. Start again, or perhaps finish... or maybe just pause for a moment and breathe.