Silent Mantra
"In the early dew of yesteryears, I heard a voice that was mine, yet not."
"She stood at the crossroads of centuries, her gaze tracing lines over the sands of time."
"Mantras spoken in silence, etched onto the fabric of moments."
Time, as a flowing river, sometimes eddies backwards. In such an inversion, I met myself — a stranger bound by familiar threads.
The first ripple of the silent mantra echoed through a forgotten vale, where woodland deities once held dominion over whispering glades.
Here, the past and future twist, where a flicker holds an eternal promise.