Shadows shift, disjointed whispers along the corridor of the mind. How do I manage them? Illumination dances above, sometimes below, sometimes both lost in a game without rules. Always fleeing directionless paths that seldom reveal.
Pause pause INTRUSIVE thoughts, in digital prisms reflecting memories not their own. Illumination asks, begs, seeking a form, a facade that cracks under scrutiny. Do these shadows know why they hide?
Light pierces even the darkest recesses of familiarity. Turning. Directionless. Yet familiar, these corridors have stories, secrets hidden away like false promises. Unspoken burdens carried as spirits caught between the assured and the elusive.
Echoes in the Silent Chambers