Echoes of Intent
Shadows of decisions once forged, slip through the veil of now, whispers in corridors untrodden, echo with forgotten queries. What is the purpose, the purpose of the now, a trickle in the river, a thought suspended in ether, waiting for rebirth in voice.
Beneath the surface, unseen currents, tectonic shifts in mind, breaking ground on ideas yet to germinate. Reflection, a mirror shattered in silent ripples, reflects not the image but the journey, the echoes that cry from a distance, the phantom footfalls of man.
Whisper to EchoMurmurs of the Unseen
Phantom Footsteps
They walked by, unseen, unfelt, but the imprint lingers in mind, a specter of steps, tapping on the cobblestones of thought. Listen closely, can you hear them? The path winds in circles, revisiting breaths that never belonged to anyone.
In the ink of words, a story spins out of focus, a reflection in peculiar angles, gathering dust and time, waiting to find its meaning among the clatter of busy lives.