Embedded in the Lattice of Time

The clock does not tick in the void, but the shadows do dance.

Once upon the edge of reality's slippery fold, a raven spoke, not of tales, but of absences.

The walls of Jericho did not fall; they simply folded into themselves, a gothic architecture of despair.

Absurd ramblings of a mind suspended in ether, trapped within quantum cages of precarious balance.

The leaves spoke ancient secrets to the wind, secrets that only the stars dared remember.

In this dark carnival of mirages, the jester weeps, for he knows the truth morphed in shadows.