The lattice of thoughts, spider webbed and fragmented.
Time doesn’t tick; it oscillates silently in empty chambers.
Luminous shadows emerge—echoes of effervescence, pulsation.
Between breaths, whispers transgress boundaries—without form, yet brimming.
Rendered light, staccato rhythm of being: a breath without mouth.
Existence deep as an unending pit, raw with the texture of silence.