In corridors seemingly familiar, I traverse casts of shadow and light, sought in unseen corners, where another lifetime unfolds in parallel.
Does the echo of yesterday's winds whisper tomorrow's design? With each crucible of choice, the tapestry of now unwinds, threads breaking, mending. Perspectives collide in visions rarely remembered, almost prophetic.
Ghosts of questions once pondered surface. In the crucible of shared thought, seek the answer not confined to words:
Quiet hums of reality vibrate with rhythms blind, lost in transit between sense and sensibility.
Every sentence spoken anew carries the weight of ancient wisdom, as if reciting myths etched in petroglyph alongside the river's origination.
The desert of absence hums louder, where outposts of thought are marked with dreams carried on the backs of invisible winds. Are they forever destinations, or merely points along an open-ended journey? The question wears gently yet burdensome, like déjà vu not encountered but invariably known.