Hushed whispers dance on the edges of shadows,
a lullaby woven into the fabric of forgetting.
In the glassy cage, realities mingle, refracted
through prisms that only the brave contemplate.
Clocks melt with the amber hue of twilight,
while clocks without hands sing songs without words.
Journey into the void,
where echoes remember the touch of sunlight that never was.
The wind brings secrets; murmurs
that laugh in the face of light, casting shadows they dare not touch.
Here lies the keeper of dreams, cradled in oscillating
doubt and the soft pulse of ancient lullabies.