Whispers Through the Glass

In the labyrinth of your whispered dreams, I found a petal of the moon's untouched skylight.

Though once mere reflections, the mirrors now haunt our silent corridors, each pane a doorway to a memory unmade. Gazing into them, one can feel the pulse of a world that breathes just outside the edges of our own.

The dance of shadows offers neither solace nor warmth – only the promise of what could have been. We stand before these shimmering portals like moths, irresistibly drawn to the flicker just beyond reach.