beneath the surface, where velvet shadows dance
in the moonlight's absence, a voice calls...
"can you hear the echo of dreams yet to be spoken?"
echoes
they blend into the silence, becoming more than what they are
shadows whisper secrets of the night,
timeless as they weave through the fabric of forgotten time...

in this twilight reverie, a promise unmade lies
waiting for the touch of dawn's first light
and the whispers say, “the mirage beckons”
a paradox of existence speaking truths
concealed beneath layers of mist and mystery...

soft whispers, like the embrace of an old friend
caress the edges of your consciousness,
urging you to remember, to forget, to simply be
in the void, a dimension
suspended between thought and reality...