Whispers in the static, they linger at the edge of perception—
running in circles across a dreamscape of forgotten relics—
the horizon bends to reach them.
Circular echoes, an enigma in motion with no starting point,
no destination, just an everlasting surge that loops upon itself—
like murmurs passed through trembling leaves.
Crystalline Murmurs
Synthetic hues bleed into the fabric of dusk as
echoes pulsate—
now near, then far— the perennial cycle
reweaving its gossamer tapestry.
Seraphic winds carry unseen truths across luminous expanses
that flicker just out of reach,
where the lines between reality and illusion melt into a shimmering haze.
Monolith Icescape
Thoughts cascade, each a fragment refracted—
crystalline shards catch and break the light,
as they weave into the loop of refractions.
Loop me, don't, can't— a spectral dance in
the primal dawn where void and form coalesce.