The fairy sways gently among twilight's zephyrs, whispering secrets of unspoken worlds. In this dominion, reality slumbers with open eyes—vigilant, yet aloof.
Grail-bearers may have ventured farther; their shadows form a tapestry above celestial marigolds. To touch the ephemeral is to grasp a memory of dust, cradled solemnly in the mighty hands of time.
In the reflections of a brooklit absence, find the echo of your own impermanence. As embers flutter, so too do the moments of our becoming verge upon inseparability.
Flickers Beneath