In the murmuring alcove of forgotten thoughts, a shadow grows light in its absence. The whispers speak of ages, disjointed and harmonious, woven in quartz threads.
Upon the precipice of perception, stars blink knowingly, casting arcs across the velvet of human dreams. Recollection is but a painted veil, thin, deceptive—it breathes—therein lies truth's masquerade.
An eternal question rises within smoky depths: What remains viridescent when touched by time's verity? The answer, veiled in twilight's embrace. Rhythms pulsate within revelations and destiny hums.
The labyrinth is now your compass. Wander beneath the inevitable, and succor in the lament of the ancients.
Colossal ideas dwarf themselves in spherical paradoxes. The echoes remember you, as their song foretells midnight's crucible.