The Echoes of the Fading Quiet
Upon entering the hushed corridors of forgotten spectral lace, I found myself enraptured by the silent echoes; they echoed like a morose symphony through these gossamer curtains. The quiet is a ship adrift on the black sea of memory, its sails stained with the hues of yesterday, whispering secrets in the language of sighs.
Search not for the voices beneath the veil, for they tread like faded embers, casting no warmth, only the chill of long-buried truths. And yet, we seek their counsel among the shadows, as moths to flames that never were, to those flickers of light that mock the obscurity.
Lingering Dreams
Gates of Darkness
Echo of Vibrations