In the cauldron of forgotten dreams, where shadows lay thick, a whisper calls from the abyss. The night sings its eternal lament, a dirge to the fading stars.
Once, there were thoughts like flickering candles, now extinguished, leaving only the smoky trails of what could have been. They echo, echo, echo…
The mirror, oh the ghastly mirror of solitude, reflects not what is, but what was, silently screaming in the depths of the unspoken.
Do you hear it? The heartbeat of the void? A syncopation of despair wrapped in velvet silence. Listen close as the darkness hums its ancient tune, a melody of forgotten realms.
There, upon the precipice of reason, lies the fragment of a thought, a sliver of light breaking through the ebon veil. Reach for it, if you dare, but know the price is steep.
In the end, we are but echoes in an empty hall, chasing shadows of our own making, lost in the endless waltz of time.