The whisper of the ocean floor debates the ascendancy of shadows, quietly. A murmur, half-formed in antiquity.
I once found a dream etched in the sands of time, memory flickered like pale stars. What do they echo?
Listen to the echoes the shadows leave behind at the alley between night and day.
Scribbles upon the bark of ancient trees, read only in moonlight, speak of loves gone ice, slowly..
Return to Murmurs Words of the Ancients Bygone Delusions