In the cradle of twilight, where whispers ignite
The sky bleeds a soft cerulean, the sun retreating beyond an unseen horizon. Here, amid shadows lengthening, our thoughts begin to smolder. Each idea is a fuse, lit and threatening, yet we find the flame flickers, hissing against a chill that seeps into bones woven of daydreams.
Footprints trace patterns on unseen terrain, lines drawn to nowhere. They spiral and beckon, yet resist answers with a knowing stubbornness. We walk, alone in the echo of fading light, the sands shifting under each step. Our imprint remains - transient, ephemeral.
Echoes of whispered truthsShadows of questions unfinished