Whispers of the Unseen Realm

Drifting through universes, thoughts slip into streams where not everything connects, but tangents touch softly on glowing shores. A place where silence blocks out noise and tunes in the space to breathe.

Phantoms of gravity—a pressure not felt but known, like whispers against veneer, tiptoeing across echoes of time. What's said in the murmurs might already be written in the lines of another unsung song.

Feel the map's edge curl beneath fingers, yearning for texture in the realm of thoughts. Each inscription, a downside to weight—lighter stars silent in voices no one hears; yet orbit reality like structured chaos.

Close your eyes and draw constellations, leaving behind constancy’s characters. The ghost can see without seeing, without need to know the correct paths, through skies though earthbound.