Whispers are best understood in silence, they say.
Echoes of existence trail behind, left by passing souls
who dance between the lines of clarity and chaos.
Beneath the soothing hum of modern life,
shadows stretch as silhouettes on a canvas
unseen yet felt, a tug at the seam of awareness.
Touch the echo,
they whisper,
feel the lingering warmth of a presence once close.
In each fragment of noise, a story unfolds—
silent observers carving paths into memory,
reflections of what was, and what is yet to be.
We breathe in alignment,
synchronized with the heartbeat of truths concealed
within the searching luminescence of twilight.