In the hushed opera of curdled hopes, silent visionaries conjure endless horizons. A coffin of dreams adorned with dust and embers waits,
echoing through hallways solemnly echoing—where silence, a loyal specter, beholds unuttered prayers refracted through gossamer shards of twilight.
A flicker borne of fickleness dances over shades, each haunted whisper storing untold eulogies behind the brittle façade.
Have the visionaries reached the abyss? Or is the abyss confessing alien tales, stitched carelessly in subterranean dust?