In the space between breaths, a formless voice beckons. It does not belong to the seen, but to the shadows only whispered of in forgotten tales.
There exists a path, not walked, yet wandered countless times in the mind's mirror. Does the traveler know her name? Perhaps in dreams, yes.
Each corner of the unseen hides a story, an echo, or perhaps a shadow of who we might have been. Or did we ever become that self? In the dusk's embrace, it scarcely matters.
A mirror whispers back questions we forget the answers to as daylight wanes.
Forgotten PathsIs there ever a different sun? One that might rise in reverie instead of reality. That truth lies among unseen realms, where shadows hold the stories of time unseen by radiant eyes.
Hence, the particles intone a rhapsody only the wind can hear—a lilt lifted off unknown shores, where the golden-legged sea carries souls between dangling notes of music and void.
The shadows watch ameliorate illusions lathe with crystalline precision. Touch the unseen and know it is the touch of every untold dream that unfurls gently as dusk cloaks life.
